Soldier & The Dragon
by Sarahtropolis
Summary: After the Final Battle and the fall of the age of man; The Dragon has risen as the High King of the Old World. One soldier fights to prove that tyrants can be overthrown, that soldiers can slay dragons, and that love can overcome hate.
1. Prologue

Prologue

_2025_

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><p>The place was dark; the disorienting type of darkness where you can feel neither the breadth nor depth of the space you're in. The torches had long gone out and only spicy breath of smoke, the human scent of sex and sound of her breath and his.<p>

"You don't have to do this." She whispered, her lips fluttering against his hairless cheek.

His eyes stared at the vaulted ceiling, giving no indication that he was listening, or that he cared.

"It doesn't have to be this way." She sat up wrapping her slender pale arms around her own nude body as if she could offer herself some small measure of comfort in these comfortless times.

He moved suddenly, fabric rippling around him and his cool hand spanned across her ripening belly. "It will be for the sake of this child that I do this." He said.

Her hand slid over his and gently she moved him away unable to bear his touch, unable to bear the thought of their child born into the cruelty of these times. Would her daughter, for surely it was a girl, ever know the joy of life, and love and freedom? She knew though, with absolute certainty that she would do anything for her child. Anything.

Her eyes flicked to his face, and she wondered at the thoughts that slid behind the darkness of his gaze. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her eyes the shade of crushed violets gleamed eerily in the dark. "I want you to promise me something."

His smile was cold and brief. "What, beloved?"

"Whatever may happen don't hurt our baby." She whispered.

His lips parted and then closed and a breath hitched in her throat.

"I can't make that promise."

There was light in his eyes that was generated by no torch nor lamp in the room, it was an eldritch light that spoke of his otherness, it spoke of his power. The light cast shadows on her face, the subtle lines of age at her eyes, the corners of her lips but despite this she was still beautiful.

"I love you." She said her voice breaking on her tears.

He stood beside her. "Of course you do." He whispered and ran his fingers through her white blond hair and smiled whilst she wept.

* * *

><p>Captive in the dank, dark cellar, the King of the First House of the Shapeshifters had his wrists shackled to a wall. "It won't be long now, your grace." The king lifted his head at the sound of that voice, that taunting, terrible voice was all that rose out of the dark. "His hunger grows with the falling of the sun."<p>

"It doesn't have to be this way. You could let us all go." The king said, his voice barely above a whisper as if the waiting had robbed him of some strength.

"To what end, your grace?" Laughter rose and fell. "He is the High King of this world: there would be nowhere to escape that he couldn't find you."

"There are people that will stop him."

"And who could stand against a god?"

"He's not a god." Galen mumbled.

"I have seen no creature able to withstand him, not even those who call themselves kings or Maegesters or-"

"Gundermann." The Dragon's voice was unmistakable as it echoed large in the darkness, the sound sliced through the man's voice like a sharp blade. Torches burst to life around the prison throwing harsh light upon the king's face and he had to squint to adjust to the new light and the sight of The Dragon.

He appeared a young man, angelic, innocuous almost but there was strength in his young body, he bore an otherworldly grace and beauty from his ivory skin to the ebony darkness of his hair and such eyes that held the look a predator who was about to feast on his prey. You would not know you were in danger until the last moment.

Gundermann was a large, awkward porcine man, compared to his master his large round features were flushed red and the king had a moment to see his small eyes open to reveal white around the iris before he dropped to his knee in deference at The Dragon's appearance.

The Dragon's glittering gaze fell upon the king and the king remained defiant, his lips pressed together, his gaze intent on that young face refusing to betray the weakness in his body.

The Dragon cocked his head, hair drifted into his eyes, the flame casting blood red highlights in his dark hair. He looked so very young. "There is a remedy for those that will not kneel."

He motioned for the large man to come forward, Gundermann materialised a Japanese Katana in one hand, the hilt looked as if it were carved of bone and polished to shine, the blade caught the light and for a moment it looked as if the steel were aflame. There was only a moment for the king to comprehend The Dragon's unspoken command before Gundermann brought the blade down in a graceful arc, he sliced through the meat, muscle and bone, removing the king's entire right leg.

Shock disguised the immediate pain but the king's lips parted to scream, but any sound died quickly as he lurched forward to vomit bile.

The Dragon smiled, delighting in the king's pain, he held up a hand before Gundermann could remove the other leg. "Even I can be merciful, if you would but bow to me, King of Shapeshifters."

"Someone will stop you." The king hissed before he choked on his pain.

The Dragon made a motion with his hand and Gundermann wielded his sword to slice off the left leg as well.

The king didn't have breath to scream at the second wave of pain, two grave wounds one after the other and he was soon falling in and out of consciousness. Time might have passed and he would not have known. The pain had stolen his sense of time and space and he was a throbbing mass of exquisite agony. He could hear his heart beat thunder and ebb, a river returning to the ocean.

The Dragon leant down to lay his mouth atop the king's. "I accept your fealty, King Galen." He spoke against the other's lips and it was like the fluttering of a moth's wing, blood painted The Dragon's mouth from where it leaked between Galen's lips.

* * *

><p>Miss S<p> 


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

_2066_

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><p><em>Her fingertips slid over the cool surface of the gun metal, there was grit under the small crescents of her fingernails and the pads of her fingers were now slick with oil. A pale slender hand engulfed the child's hand. "No, honey." Her mother whispered in her ear. "Don't touch that."<em>

_An old soldier picked up the rifle and slung it carelessly over his shoulder, he flashed a brief crooked smile, a half smoked cig drooped between his lips a long scar ran up the right side of his chin. He joined the stream of other men, their boots forming a rhythm as they marched._

"_Where are they going?" The girl asked her eyes move rapidly over the marching soldiers._

"_To the city, honey." Her mother said clinging tightly to her daughter's hand, holding her close. "To war."_

Soldier pulled up her collar against the hot eastern wind. Funny how one little memory could slide so immediate and vital into one's mind, it stole the breath from her lungs putting her momentarily in a place out of time, she remembered with startling clarity the scent that clung to her mother's dress…

"_Will they come back?" She asked, young, ignorant and hopeful._

"_I don't know, honey." Her mother replied._

"You okay, Soldier?" The voice startled her; the chip was embedded in the skin behind her right ear, feeding the voice direct to her brain so it was audible only to her.

"I'm fine, Sarge." She said, her voice quavering a little.

"I thought I lost you." Alan Edwards muttered in her mind before he cleared his throat and put on a more bureaucratic tone. "What do you see, constable?"

Soldier stood on the precipice of the Shard, or what remained of the once tallest building in the city of London, she looked down on the ruins spread beneath her; the remains of a city ravaged by war and fire, a city now in the sway of The Dragon.

She watched Revenants scuttle like rats between shadows and concrete crevices, three Ravens perched below observed the spread of the land and a legion of The Dragon's men were carrying out their routine march across Southwark bridge.

She slid her index finger up the smooth steel cuff on her left wrist and a 4.8" three dimensional screen popped up, she modulated the image in a rapid series of taps, a 2-dimensional 36 square grid appeared dividing the map into sections and she began to record what she saw; the surveillance information would be fed back to the central mainframe and the colony tacticians would collate the information received by all surveillance constables to formulate their strategies for moving about the city for supply routes and rescues.

"It's business as usual." She sighed. "Three Ravens on the tower and The Dragon's men on the bridge."

"Any sign of the German?"

"None. No movement on the river."

They had been waiting for the arrival of German dignitaries; several European governments had been ingratiating themselves with The Dragon, thinking to protect their land by pledging fealty to him. With each new territory he gained he gained more power. If he secured the fealty of Germany it would cut off Britain's supplies from Eastern Europe.

She cast her gaze down the dark glittering Thames, she saw the spine of a Kelpie appear and disappear in the blink of an eye and she shuddered. "None." She murmured.

"That's enough for the night." His voice crackled slightly as the sulphur clouds gathered above her, interfering with the signal. "Come back in, it looks like rain."

"Yes, Sarge." She murmured.

* * *

><p>"My King." Jan Van Dorman spoke slowly, deliberately pronouncing the words in a tongue that was foreign to him. He spoke slowly, trying to ignore the cloying stench of the dead, the corpses that surrounded him and the dead feasting upon the dead. "I have come all of this way to show my respect-"<p>

His voice sounded broad and hollow in the amphitheatre, real fire torches lit the hall throwing a sick orangey glow on the gathered and dark shadows on the rest.

"Respect?" The Dragon's voice carried with it the sibilance of snakes; he stood and his dark robes audibly scraped against the concrete floor. "Do I command your respect or do I command your fear?"

The sound of flesh being sundered from flesh and the cracking of bones filled Van Dorman's ears. "Fear." He exhaled in one long, shuddering breath.

The Dragon laughed and the sound echoed around the dome. His face was youthful, handsome, a cop of dark hair fell messily onto his forehead but it could not disguise the tapering horns protruding from his brow. "I accept your gifts, Jan Van Dorman."

Van Dorman bowed his head, his hands clutched together in almost a prayer like gesture but it was only to stop the trembling of his fingers.

He beckoned for the nude, manacled girls to be brought to him and they were pulled roughly by Gunderman, the large, porcine man in the ill fitted black suit.

Van Dorman was glad that The Dragon's attention had shifted from him, he felt his shoulders sag with it and he suffered himself to watch the gaggle of women he had helped transport from his homeland to The Dragon's den.

He could see how The Dragon took pleasure in their slender, shivering flesh and naked fear; he sniffed the air and sighed with delight. Each one was beautiful in their own way, some tall and slender, other small and voluptuous, each from a different land, representing a different vein of the same Power.

His people had spent years hunting them out, knowing their great worth and what a great ally they could make in their trade.

"Bring that one to me." The Dragon said a hint of dark amusement in his voice.

The woman didn't struggle as Gundermann gripped her arms and tugged her to stand before The Dragon. She was marked with intricate patterns of torture, her flesh and been sliced and scored in spirals. She spoke in a language no one understood, except The Dragon who was old enough to remember.

Her voice was the hissing sibilance of an angry serpent and her head reared back as she spat at The Dragon's feet in sheer contempt.

A sudden, heavy silence fell in the room, the writhing, feasting creatures in the outer darkness ceased to move waiting for The Dragon's reaction.

He stood from his chair, dark robes flowing, snaking across the floor, the fabric looked wet, slick like coils and whispered across the stone floor.

"I do not wish you to forget, Jan Van Dorman." The Dragon spoke, his voice like a crack of thunder, his Power eddied and swirled about him, palpable, tickling on Van Dorman's tongue. He took hold of the woman's chin between thumb and forefinger, pulling her face so close it looked as if they would kiss. "I eat my own kind." He murmured those words against her lips in an intimate gesture until he darted forward taking her mouth between his teeth and tearing the flesh of her face, blood erupted against his ivory features, the woman fell to the floor paralyzed by pain but she did not scream.

Her hair was limp against the cobbles exposing her face that was half ruined and her head were the dark nubs of seven horns.

Van Dorman was shaking from head to toe with fear and underlying that was disgust.

The Dragon's eyes were lit by infernal flame and they focused on the German alone. "I rose from the abyss to hold dominion over the earth, go and tell your masters, no one can stand against me now."

* * *

><p>Miss S<p> 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

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><p>The Eden Colony was on the fringes of the western suburbs of London, founded by Professor Stanley Ribbon, a psychic who had foreseen the apocalypse long before the millennium battle. The colony was protected by powerful magic: it helped to conceal it from the wandering eye of The Dragon and predators of the Night.<p>

It was the last largest free colony in Southern England, the second largest was Northumberland in the north and third was Lincolnshire in the East. The colonies were large sprawling communities of humans and non-humans; they were self-sufficient groups having military units, schools, crop and cattle farms.

There were other pockets of free humans dotted about the cities but life was harder for them. The Eden Colony was the last free colony in London leaving the free humans in London to move through the subterranean maze, 82 miles of intercepting sewers parallel to the river Thames.

The tunnels had been abandoned by the Night and Eden's most powerful spell casters had put wards to make sure they wouldn't want to return to them.

There were infections and viruses in the cities; some were deadly to humans and the colony manufactured gas masks that would protect them from exposure as they moved underground. The Colony engineers had long ago set up atmosphere processors to purify the bolt holes in the tunnels, they were small bunks equipped with supply cabinets spaced in intervals throughout the tunnels.

Produce was no longer imported for human consumption, supply routes were carefully controlled by the Night and goods were smuggled regularly by Colonies. Soldier was part of the surveillance team who fed into operations to move food and medical supplies to free humans across the city.

Surveillance and operations were part of the military units of the Colonies call Constabularies, the Constabularies kept the peace both inside the community and protected the community from the Night.

Soldier Dominick had been born and raised in Eden, she had joined the Constabulary when she was young; eager to absorb herself in anything other than the harrowing memories of her mother's death. Every man or woman had the right to fight and protect their home and she was no different at eight years old.

She walked in darkness, just a small extension of magic and she used the shadow like a cloak and for anyone or anything that looked they would not see her but an amorphous blackness that blended into the night.

She wore a colony issue fitted M7 fibre cat suit that concealed throat, to wrist, to heel, on top of it she wore the staple Constabulary ballistic vest, thigh holster, knife belt and combat boots. She had added the black scarf and had it wrapped tight around the lower half of her face to help filter the sulphur content and a black hoodie to add bulk and conceal her stainless steel wrist guards.

She came to the border of Colony land and she could feel the wards press upon her like a fist, if she reached out she could feel the magic as thick as stew and if she knew if she touched it with your bare skin it would feel icy, wet and unpleasant.

It was designed to keep out the Night, some beings would avoid the area altogether but for those that tested the wards they would be marred by uneasiness, nausea and fear. If you stood for long enough in the thick of the magic it would start to speak to you, slithering, echoes of distress, sounds that would be enough to drive away even a battle hardened Constabulary man.

It was a magic that pulled the worst of your fears and nightmares to life, a spell that would break your mind and reduce you to a snivelling mass, forever walking the darkest labyrinthine paths of your mind never to be free.

Soldier pushed through it quickly, even though she wore the sprig of heather and Angelica to stave off the worst of the spell it was still powerful enough to stir her memories, the faintest echo of her mother's voice. When she was through the other side, she glanced behind her and there was nothing but overgrown fauna and a curving line of sycamores framing an ordinary suburban meadow lane.

She headed toward the colony entrance, a packed mound of earth that spoke of nothing of what was beyond, the entrance again was a piece of magic and it would open only to those it would recognise, this was not witch magic but Fey.

She had to uncover one hand and held it up toward the shimmer of power, she felt the magic latch onto her fingertips like the suckers of an octopus, she felt he thrill of recognition and the way opened like a seam in the fabric of reality emitting warmth and fragrance of the life within.

She stepped inside the colony proper and felt a wave of relief wash over her, another day another night and she was still alive. She pushed back the hood a little and rubbed at her forehead which was damp with perspiration, and her fingertips grazed the puckered scars that were neatly hid beneath her dark fringe.

She had forgotten now how she had got the scars, it had happened whilst her mother was still alive, whilst she was very young, some accident or other. She had always had a fringe to conceal her forehead and cover up those ugly scars.

She remembered the way her mother would brush her hair up and lay a kiss on her forehead as if the scars didn't exist at all; it had always made her feel beautiful and loved, a feeling she had only had with her mother and never since.

"Welcome back, Sol."

She raised her hand in a wave.

There was a bustle of bodies as she entered the gates to the military quarter. She entered the stream of bodies asking of no one in particular. "What's going on?" She asked.

An old solider glanced at her quickly muttering. "Allies from the Pacific Districts of America: they shipped in whilst you were out."

She pushed her way forward through the crowd to get a look. She saw tall, strong, soldiers, all young men and tough looking women in army fatigues, they were causing quite a stir. They stood in rigid lines, their expressions stern and focused and their eyes fixed to a point in front of them, as if they didn't see the shabby denizens of Eden peering at them.

At the front stood a man clothed in black, tall, dark hair cropped short and stormy grey eyes appraising the British, his cold aristocratic mouth formed in an almost-sneer.

She could hear some of the conversation, dipping in the whispers of the surrounding crowd. The elders had gathered representing the different branches of the Colony community. Soldier tried to find Alan in the crowd, surely he would be representing Surveillance and Supplies; but in her attempt to get a better look she was nudged forward and stumbled managing to regain her balance moments before she would have collided with the grey eyed American man.

"Is that how you greet a superior officer? Remove your hood." He growled, she could feel those words vibrate in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps man had been too generous an estimation.

She pulled down her hood as she had been rold and ran a hand through her tangled, grease slicked hair, flashing the scars on her forehead for a brief instant. Her bobbed hair and heavy fringe fell into clumped tendrils around her face. A volley of gasps and mutters rose in the crowd; some were all surprised to see a young woman whilst others that knew her were staring nervously.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"Soldier."

"Your name?" He barked.

"That is her name, Major General." Sergeant Alan Edwards stood forward putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. He was tall and muscled gentleman of about forty-five years, his russet hair had flecks of grey and his square jawed handsomeness was marred by three C-shaped scar on his cheek.

The Major General's eyes narrowed into jewelled slits.

"That is my name." Soldier said softly with an amused close lipped smile. "Soldier Dominick."

"Alright, alright." Edwards tugged her back and nodded toward the barracks. "Why don't you go cool off, Soldier."

Soldier walked away with the Major General's cold gaze sliding all over her.

"What is her designation, Sergeant?"

"She's a scout for Unit Two, sir, she specialises in surveillance. She's been to the city on-"

"Thank you, Sergeant."

The sound of their voices faded as she walked away heading to the barracks to shower. She'd been in the city for several days, laid low among the Revenants, her wrist cuffs allowed her to programme her magic and she could replicate the scent of any species so as to get around the territories without fear of detection.

The Revenants had only basic intelligence and were guided by scent and sight, if she smelt like one of them and looked like a shadowy figure shrouded in black they tended to stay away from her. They were far more interested in fresh, living blood and meat.

She had been in the city watching for the arrival of the German dignitaries, hoping to alert the colony to intercept them, but they never came or at least she hadn't seen their convoy. She knew The Dragon's men were extra cautious since the Colony had interfered with the importing of slaves from Eastern Europe. She didn't know if they had magic enough to conceal people from moving about the city but it was possible.

She kicked off her boots and stripped off her stinking hoodie soaked with sweat and sulphur and peeled off her suit until she stood in her underwear. She was relieved to take off the sports bra that bound her breasts tightly and she peeled off her underwear damp with perspiration.

She hadn't heard an American fleet was coming to the Colony, she had no notion of why they were in Eden or what intentions they had. It was difficult to get into Britain: the skies and seas were monitored on four sides, by French, Spanish, Irish and Norwegian troops. Those Americans had balls, she could admit that at least.

She picked up her bar of soap and strode into the showers, greeting a few of the Unit Two crew with a nod. They were solitary creatures in Unit Two, taking shifts in the city territories.

"What's it like out there?" One asked.

"Quiet." She said as she turned on the shower and an icy spray of water hit her body. "It looks like rain."

She received a curt nod and they walked away.

She sighed in pleasure as the air turned from icy to lukewarm and she watched the dirt of the city swirl down the plug hole.

* * *

><p>Miss S<p> 


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

* * *

><p>"<em>What are you doing, honey?" Her mother placed her hands on her slender shoulders and squeezed gently. Her touch was always warm, reassuring. <em>

"_Playing." She replied. Her mother's grip became tight, her fingertips digging. "You're hurting me."_

"_Where did you get that?" Her voice quavered with fear._

_She remembered how the bird felt, sticky and limp in her hands, the neck broken and head lolling. The dead bird's belly had been ripped through the middle, entrails seeping from the wounds. _

"_No, honey." Her mother scooped the bird from her hands. "You don't play with the dead."_

Soldier didn't know why she remembered that incident in particular nor why it came to her when she was towelling off her body. She never told her mother or anyone that she had ripped that bird's belly apart with her own nails and fingertips.

"Hi Sol." She raised her eyes to the pretty young girl sitting on her bunk; she had large expressive chocolate brown eyes and afro hair wild about her head. Persephone Jones had taken a liking to Soldier almost as soon as they met and often braved the wilds of the barracks to come seek her out.

"Hi, cadet." She replied unperturbed throwing down her towel. "You okay?"

The young girl sat and watched as Soldier pulled on a clean pair of underwear. "One day I'm going to be like you." She said with the dreamy adoration of ignorant youth.

"I damn well hope not." Soldier muttered under her breath.

In that space of a moment the girl's caramel fingertips moving over the small Berretta BU9 Nano Soldier had left on the bunk. "Don't touch that Seph." She snatched the gun up. She had been Persephone's age when she had shot her first gun. "It's dangerous, honey."

"I know. I was being careful." Persephone thrust out her bottom lip.

Soldier touched her soft hair, threading fingers through her curls. "I know that, love." She suddenly felt old, lonely and very sad; she had a vision of Persephone a grown woman, a hardened warrior with only weapons to keep her flesh company. Soldier sighed.

"Persephone Jones." Her mother's voice admonished before she appeared and the girl shrieked and ran to hide behind Soldier's leg. "Has she been bothering you again?"

Lily Quinlan was a little shorter than Soldier at five foot two, her blonde hair crackled about her face, flawless white skin and two jewel like blue eyes that were full of life and kindness. Lily was frowning at her daughter but it didn't reach her eyes.

Soldier winked conspiratorially at the girl who tried to supress a giggle by pushing a hand to her mouth. "She was on a special mission tonight."

"And what would that be?" A pale brow arched quizzically.

"Guarding my rear."

Persephone peeked out from behind Soldier's leg to salute and then ducked back to hide from her mother.

"Thank you for keeping an eye on her, Sol." Lily reached out and squeezed her arm. There wasn't many people that she trusted enough to touch her but Lily had been a friend since she arrived in the colony, three months pregnant with Persephone and no other family to speak of.

"Any time." She said and patted her friend's arm.

"Away with you." Lily shepherded her giggling wayward daughter through the barracks and Soldier watched them go with a smile.

She pulled on a black tank top and some baggy combat trousers tucked into her boots. She could not remove the silver cuff, she ran her hand over one idly, they had been put on when she was a child, she remembered the kindly old Circle of witches who sat with her as they clamped them in place.

"For safety." One had said and ruffled her cap of dark hair.

She ran her fingers over the cuffs, the cool steel offering her comfort, they had been with her a long time and had saved her life on more than one occasion and no matter what hit them they remained smooth, unmarked bands of cool steel.

They could become unbearable hot if she tried to exercise her magic beyond the boundaries which had been set to her, she was like a mouse in a cage being conditioned with small electric shots but instead of shocks the cuffs would become like hot brands and she could feel her flesh cook beneath them, resisting the rising magic.

They would cool in time. Her flesh would heal too.

She headed out of the barracks.

She smiled, nodded and waved at friends as she passed, she walked by gruelling session of close quarters combat training, she could hear the echo of bullets being fired from the gun range. She was heading out of the military quarters to the family commune.

The air was different here, the scent of gun oil and sulphur, soldier sweat and violence fell away and there was warmth and the pleasant sounds of music and children screaming as they played. The Colony ensured that all the children were well provided for with homes, food, education.

In this place writers were able to write, musicians were able to play. It wasn't a perfect life but it was life on Eden Colony and it was better than what was beyond the high walls and mounds of earth. Soldier had grown up here, she had spent most of her time in the barracks but before that, when her mother was alive, she had lived in the civilian quarters where there was joy and laughter.

Even Soldier knew the Colony's life was finite; the reach of The Dragon was slowly encroaching on the suburbs and beyond, his army marching more frequently.

"Hi, Sol." A woman waved to her from across a row of beautifully kept roses.

Soldier smiled and waved. "They look beautiful, Charlotte."

The girl beamed at her. Soldier reached out and touched a petal with her fingertip, the edges were fading slightly from the rich crimson to an orange and she pushed a small whisper of magic into the flower to restore it to an uninterrupted rich colour.

"Thank you." Charlotte said breathily as if she had felt the rush of power.

Soldier nodded. "Don't mention it." She walked away quickly.

There were few supernaturals here, those of witch and even Fae blood though the latter were rare because the air wasn't altogether stable, flora and fauna were increasingly hard to cultivate as the land turned bitter and hard. Eden had hydroponic domes which were presided over by Fae and witches who were distant kin anyway.

There were some solitary shapeshifters here too, most kept to themselves, some were even part of the Constabulary and had proved themselves useful, even trustworthy but prejudices still ran rife for it was The Dragon that had them all pinned in this place, never moving forward, afraid of looking back.

The Colony did not reject the People who chose to seek sanctuary. Some people even had relationships with them, families, Soldier's mother was a witch who had been with a regular soldier, in fact a soldier so regular that nobody cared to remember who he was and none knew how he died or if he had. Sometimes she looked at the battle scarred faces of the old boys sitting in the barracks and wondered.

She entered the pre-fabricated building, the scent of bleach and other chemicals was like a solid fist ramming up her nostrils and into her throat. "Shit." The expletive rang high pitched and packed with every inch of frustration that showed plane upon the man's face when she stepped into the unit.

Darren Grant was a scientist and inventor, a promising young student who had never got to realise his full academic potential. He was content in Eden to work in the pre-fab building tucked away where he could experiment to his heart's content. He was a short man of about five foot two inches, with curly dark hair falling messily into grey-green eyes that were framed by thick rimmed round glasses and a larger pair of scientific goggles.

"What this?" She asked sidestepping the puddle of acid slowly fizzing as it ate through the plasterboard and concrete.

"I'm testing a new M8 fibre." He murmured lifting his goggles to blink over at her. "Completely acid resistant."

She made a face and then smiled and he broke out into a grin dropping his tools. "What can I do you for, Soldier love?"

"My chip's been getting all sorts of interference." She said scratching behind her ear with the short crescent of her fingernails.

"Giving you headaches?"

"Not really." She shrugged. "But it itches like crazy."

"Your skin's rejecting the new implant. How long has it been this time, eight months? A record." He patted the salvaged dentist's chair. "Let me take a look, love."

She tied her hair back in a sever bun and eased into the chair, settling in whilst Grant pulled on new surgical gloves.

"How are those scars treating you?"

"My skin feels a little tight after a hot shower."

"Hmmm." He examined her forehead putting on his goggles; they magnified his eyes to a ridiculous size. "It must be a reaction to the acidity in the city air, I can probably whip you up a cooling salve but I think you should make an appointment with Magda's lot to be sure."

Magda was a witch and a certified doctor, she ran a team of healers that served the whole Colony. Magda could exercise her magical abilities to progress healing and laid her hand to those badly injured. Soldier had been seeing her more frequently to look at the scars or her head that sometimes grew red and angry after being exposed to the city.

"Is it really that bad?" She murmured.

"Nah." He said. "But it's better to be sure, love."

His fingers hovered over her wrist cuffs and a frown pulled down the corners of his mouth. "Sol?"

She didn't meet his eyes.

"These things are hot." They were searing in fact but she refused to show pain or pay it any mind, she had afterall inflicted the pain on herself. "Sol?"

"Don't worry about it." She mumbled.

"You've been Practising." He whispered.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his and she shook her head, asking him without words not to speak of it.

"You know you're not supposed to, love." He said softly and put a hand on her arm, squeezing slightly.

She nodded. Of course she knew. She had agreed to forsake her witch heritage to become what she was now, a soldier, but it didn't change the fact that she was still a creature of magic. There was something inside her, a nagging feeling calling her to her magic and as she explored the city she could feel the great and awful beat of the heart of the earth calling to her.

The cuffs were what bound her Power, better to have none at all than let it run as wild and wilful as it would without proper nurturing or instruction.

She had tried to summon magic, a mist, a cloud, the darkness itself and she had succeeded in small ways but even that came at a price. The price was the searing heat of the cuffs against her skin but she knew in time that hurt would heal.

Grant took hold of her hand and it was only then she realised that they were trembling. "Go to Magda before the day is through, girl."

She nodded.

"Well." The word was accompanied by a grunting cough that startled the both of them. Grant turned around slowly and Soldier peered around him to see his wife Noreen Grant saunter into the lab, her painted lips curved in a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. "Sol, it's good to see you."

Soldier sat up straighter and forced her own smile. Noreen was a large, voluptuous woman that managed to fill the room with the force of her personality alone. Grant rolled his eyes good naturedly but endured his wife's peck on the cheek and her arm snaking possessively about his shoulders.

"Coming round for dinner, pet?" Noreen asked but Soldier knew those subtle tones that seemed to speak louder than her words.

"What are you cooking?" Soldier asked getting to her feet, ruffling her fringe to cover her forehead.

"Vegetable broth."

Soldier winced and renewed the strength of her smile. "Thank you but I'm busy."

"You know exactly what to say to scare the good people off, Reeny." Grant muttered as he removed his surgical gloves with a snap. Everyone knew Noreen's cooking was about as pleasant as sipping on rain water but not nearly as flavourful.

"That's a pity maybe another time, eh?"

"See you." Soldier said and fled from the room. The Dragon's soldiers may have been intimidating but Noreen was a fearsome creature all on her own and Soldier would not suffer her wrath for anything.

She walked without real purpose and only came to a stop when Edwards grasped her elbow, forcing her to stop. "I need to talk with you."

She nodded and let him guide her away, wondering at the press of his fingertips into her skin, hard and angry. They stopped in a discreet corner, waiting for people to pass them by until they were alone enough not to be overheard.

Alan's features were flushed, his cheeks taken on the russet tinge of his hair, his eyes were murky, angry, she knew the signs and she braced herself. "Why did you have to pull that shit with the PDA brass?"

"He asked me a question and I answered, Sarge." She said archly, eyes sparkling with amusement.

He pulled her in close to him, she could see passed the anger to the embarrassment in his eyes. "Next time I'll have you in for disciplinary."

"Disciplinary?" She asked with a mocking curve of her brow. "And who suggested that, your new American friend?"

"Look, Soldier-"

"I know, Sarge." She said detaching herself from his grasp and patting his arm gently. "If it makes you feel better, Alan, I'll go and apologise to the PDA Major General."

He sighed.

They had been friends for a very long time, he couldn't be angry toward her no more than she could be angry with him, it was a momentary burst that would be instantly forgiven. "Okay?" She asked and he nodded though his mouth remained pursed and unhappy.

She patted his arm. "I'll fix it." She said and walked away.

"That's what I'm afraid of." She heard him mutter under his breath.

* * *

><p>Miss S<p> 


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four:

* * *

><p>It wasn't hard for Soldier to figure out where the Major General would take up quarters; Professor Ribbon's old study was large and airy, it had a long cherry wood table, Soldier remembered being a child and not being able to see over the top.<p>

The PDA soldiers were posted at intervals down the corridor leading to the Major General's quarters, they didn't even glance at her as she strode past them though she studied them carefully from the corners of her eyes, all had smooth, young faces, incredibly focused eyes, they were true soldiers. Killers.

A soldier stepped in front of her, blocking the door. "What do you want, girl?" He had a startling Southern drawl.

He was tall and broad and terribly blond, his huge muscled arms folding across his chest creating a blockade of his body. His expression was sober and unreadable, like a mask. Most striking was the pale port wine stain on his left cheek bone. "I want to see the General." She said. "Please."

His brow quirked upward, and emotion brooked over his face and there was a hint of laughter in this new expression and despite herself she took a liking to him.

"Let her in, private." The Major General's voice emanated ominously from behind the soldier's back.

"Yes, sir." He said and winked down at Soldier. He opened the door, flexing a large tanned muscle and she stepped inside, glancing over her shoulder at the golden soldier, waiting for the door to close behind her.

There were more military inside, two tall and utterly forgettable soldiers. She passed them both into the room, heading toward the cherry wood desk where the Major General was seated waiting for her. She offered a mock salute.

"Well, what do you want, constable?" He asked brusquely.

"I'm here to apologise, General Keller." She said. "Sir." A sloppy salute followed.

He motioned for his companions to leave and they moved soundlessly. He turned his baleful stare on her. "Are you mocking me, Soldier Dominick?"

"A little." She said feeling her lips turn up at the corners.

"I am not impressed."

"If I were trying to impress you you'd be fucking impressed." She murmured.

"I do not tolerate insolence in my corps."

She turned her eyes to his, lashes narrowing to angry slits.

"If it were up to me." He said and got to his feet, chair scraping across the ground. "I would have you disciplined."

Another smile crooked the corner of her mouth, a slew of insults hot on her tongue, some allusion to a bondage fetish maybe…His arm reached for her, a sudden motion, his limbs were a blur but she was ready and stood inside his attack, using his momentum to manoeuvre him into her grasp with him stand in front, her front pressed to his back pressing his own hand holding the small serrated blade against his twitching Adam's apple. "So you're not just all mouth." He said from between his teeth.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking us weak just because we're not a big and fancy American colony." She released him slowly. "Sir."

He stared at her, his eyes betraying his inhumanness as they filled with an angry eldritch light. His eyes were the eyes of a predator and she knew he was not human but merely disguised as one.

"We've grown up in this war." She said and dropped the small knife on his makeshift desk. "I think we've earned the right to be a little…insolent." She stepped away from him, putting the desk between them, it would not save her if he chose to use his inhuman strength but it would give her moments to decide what to do.

"I am sorry if you misunderstood me, sir. I'll cooperate one hundred percent when it comes to confronting that son of a bitch."

"We're not here to confront The Dragon." He said deadpan.

"What?"

"We're here to take your people to the free districts in North America."

Anger bubbled inside her decimating any trace of good humour left. Soldier spoke quietly, soberly. "People have died fighting for freedom in this city; if you think we'd abandon it now, you're crazy."

"You have no choice." The Major General's grey eyes glinting as he spoke. "He is simply too powerful. Northumberland have already agreed they're being evacuated as we speak."

"Bully for them."

"York will be next."

"What about the districts of free roaming humans?" They were scattered across the country and no big American tank could cruise through the Night territories picking them up.

"They're welcome to get out of this place too. All we have to do is raise a call and they should all come marching our way."

She was boiling with anger and disbelief. They'd abandon her home to the beasts and run like cowards. She could feel her cheeks grow warm and she began to shiver with rage, her head slowly moved from side to side to reject the notion of fleeing from the enemy. "I have to go." She said faintly because if she had stayed she would have done something that they would both regret.

* * *

><p>"Constable?" The soldier with the southern drawl followed at Soldier's heels. "Hey, wait a minute."<p>

She strode up to Alan with the American trailing her. Few colonists glanced up and shared arched looks, they were used to seeing Soldier stride through civilian areas especially where Alan Edwards was near. "When were you going to tell us about this?" She shouted; she couldn't help herself there was no trace of military discipline in the face of her anger.

Edwards had the grace to look embarrassed and his companions moved away slowly muttering their excuses. The American stood at her shoulder watching the two have their exchange. "There are children here, Soldier."

"This is their home." She said pointing to the ground at her feet.

"But what kind of life are they living?" He snapped back. "There are places in this world where they can run free without fear of monsters."

"It's only a matter of time before he takes even that away."

"Soldier." He sighed. "I'm thinking about what's best for the people."

"With all due respect, sir." She said through her teeth. "Fuck you."

She strode away.

The American reached out as if he were going to stop her but she was already far out of his reach, Alan grasped his hand by the wrist. "Let her go, son."

"Do you let all your subordinate officers speak to you like that, sir?" He asked softly.

"We grew up together." Edwards explained softly. "She's the only one I'd let speak to me like that."

"She did a number on Major Keller. He's boiling mad."

"She can have that effect on people." He murmured with a small sad smile.

* * *

><p>Miss S<p> 


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

* * *

><p>She stared at the children running, screaming, laughing. They deserved peace but she firmly believed they should have that in their own home and London was their home. She stared at Persephone who was playing General, lining the children up for inspection.<p>

Her lips twitched upward in an almost smile.

She thought of her mother. Her mother had her late in life, she had been in her late forties, despite this she looked young, she had good genes: pale and delicate and unlike her daughter who was dark and tough. She remembered playing with the soldiers as a child, her and Alan, they had learnt how shoot guns, how to move without being seen, how to protect themselves.

She grew up in the barracks with the men after her mother died, she and Alan, they had become Constabulary: Alan rising effortlessly through the ranks whilst she remained in the field as part of the surveillance unit, moving through the city, alone, in disguise.

It was hard to conceive why, after a life spent trying to fight to survive and protect those she loved that she could just leave it all behind.

She went to the medical quarters, it was a place of witch magic as much as any modern human medicines though the medical quarters had two units, an emergency sight between the entrance and the barracks and their main sight of operations here by the family commune.

"I don't have time for you." Magda said coldly to Soldier as soon as she entered.

Magda's manner was always cold toward her and had been since Soldier had rejected the witches to stay at the barracks and be raised by soldiers. Magda had always resented her for it and though she spoke bluntly she didn't deny Soldier her healing abilities.

"Grant sent me about the scars."

Magda sighed. "Fine."

She waited whilst Magda pottered around, she smiled at the other witches that came and went, under strict orders not to encourage Soldier, they offered brief, secret smiles of greeting.

"Sit." Magda said swivelling the chair round.

She did.

"You're wearing the bandana too much." Magda grumbled. "Sweat irritates the skin."

"Better than acid." Soldier mumbled.

"Shhh." Magda admonished and shone a bright light on her forehead. "We may have to remove some tissue. I have something that will help promote healing after this is done."

Soldier groaned inwardly. It always hurt when they took a scalpel to her head. Anaesthetic never seemed strong enough, she always felt the pain.

"Lie back and don't talk." Magda murmured and Soldier lay her head back against the chair and closed her eyes and fell into a strange kind of sleep.

Soldier had been there, had seen it._ The bullet sped through the air impacting her mother's chest, bright red blood bursting against pale fabric of a summer dress and then another and another. The sound of it, huge thuds and sucking sound of flesh parting, the bullets ripping her body in half._

She had seen it, she had been there, _blood burst across her face, painting her red, filling her mouth._

_Her limp hand falling to the ground with a thud, fingers twitching as if reaching and Soldier staring not daring to touch her. Her lips parting, blood painting her teeth, the inside of her mouth. "Run." She gasps and then ecstatic staccato breath and then no more. Not ever again. _Not ever again.

Soldier woke with a gasp.

She immediately felt her forehead, it throbbed feeling like so much raw meat and then the sensation of tight bindings, she lifted a hand and experimentally touched the gauze.

"Don't touch that." Magda's voice cut through the haze of her dreams and shock of waking. "Just go back to your bunk. Rest."

Soldier did as she was told, there was no point pressing Magda for her expertise. She eased herself out of the chair and stretched her limbs hearing the clicks and pops and headed toward the door. She didn't bother to say goodbye and Magda wouldn't be offended, or if she was it would do nothing to improve or worsen her mood.

She didn't want to go back to her bunk, another day, another night. There was so much weighing on her mind only nightmares would come of it. She headed instead to the barracks watering hole. It was a tin shack, nothing special from the outside but inside there were tables, chairs, a makeshift bar and homemade alcohol.

Soldiers would come to sit and talk, to share their private horrors or console themselves on moonshine and companionable silence.

The place was half filled a mix of Americans and Brits, she moved toward the bar, sliding into a stool and the barman, Wayne, put a glass of warm milk in front of her. "This is your only one, Sol, get it?"

She grunted and wrapped a hand around the glass, just the thing she needed to help her sleep, warm milk could take the edge off her nightmares but never prevent them. She had a strange feeling knotted in her chest telling her things like _danger _and _panic _as if something were coming.

"Can I get you a drink, honey?" Her shoulders hunched at the American twang, instantly irritated.

She lifted her glass of milk. "I'm not interested."

He placed an elbow on the bar and leant over her, his breath reeking of beer. "Come on, darlin'." He said. "You look like you could use the company."

"That's the last thing I want." She muttered and touched and gingerly touched the binding on her forehead. She sipped some of her hot milk and wiped the residue from her top lip with the back of her hand.

"You got a boyfriend or something?"

She grunted.

"C'mon." He said and touched her hair, lifting it from her face to expose her cheek and the bandage at her forehead. "Jesus." He fell back from shock tinged with disgust.

"Jared, what are you doing?"

"Nothing." The hulking soldier stood and stumbled away.

"He bothering you?"

She gulped down her milk and pushed the glass away. "Not anymore."

She looked up at the blond soldier who had been guarding the Major General's door. He peered down at her, unfazed by the bandage showing beneath her ruffled fringe. "I'm sorry about him, when he gets a drink in him he can be a real asshole. I'm Raeburn." He said thrusting out a hand. "Hank Raeburn. We've not been formally introduced."

"Look, I'm really tired-"

"I get that." He said and slid into the stool beside her. "You've been out there, haven't you? In the city?"

She nodded.

"I've never been to London before." He confessed. "Actually this is my first time out of the US."

"How do you like it?"

"People are nice." He said with a genuine smile.

She shook her head vaguely, a bitter expression on her face. This crazy motherfucker, she thought. He knew nothing about what he was getting himself involved in. She felt sorry for him.

"Here." She said and pulled her sleeve up to show her cuff, she pulled up a map, the map covered London City and Greater London. She enhanced the image to show London City, the three dimensional map showed the underground tunnels, the top level city and the sky above.

"The city is split into thirty three sections." She said as a square grid overlaid the top of the top level city. "The territories to the East and South are clearly defined, here and here but the boundaries are fluid here and here."

"How often are your maps updated?" He asked leaning in.

"We report twice daily." She said. "We have eyes on the city every hour, at least six watchers at any one time."

"What is that?" He asked pointing to a domed top on the map.

"It's the Greenwich Geosphere." She said. "They were set up by the last Prime Minister as a...consolation of sorts in the face of the apocalypse."

"Consolation?"

"The Coalition Crisis Party made backroom deals with the vampire Court, whilst he was handing this country into the hands of the Night, he was investing public money into six major geospheres, safe havens for the wealthy and connected."

"Are they still operational?"

She nodded. "They're completely self-sufficient, it uses natural sustainable energy." She enhanced the image until he could see the verdant canopy.

"It sounds too good to be true."

She nodded again. "I suppose they were, only the rich could pay their way into the geospheres and into the protection racquet, but when the dragons rose the vampires turned on the humans in the spheres, they were easy prey."

"Did they kill them all?"

She gave an idle shrug. "Most of them but they enslaved the rest to cultivate a blood source. When The Dragon came, the vampires tried to bargain with human flesh but he sent his people like a scourge to kill them all: mortal and immortal."

"Who's in the geospheres now?"

"It's a grave site now, just towers of bones like totems between the trees."

"It's such a waste."

She nodded her agreement. She reached out and touched his arm, squeezing the chorded muscle. "Go to your bunk and get some sleep, Hank Raeburn, it's really fucking late."

She got off her stool and saw the tension mounting between the US troops who sat in tight clusters clutching their pint glasses and the diehard drinking Eden colonists were scattered around enjoying their umpteenth pint of the night, anything to block out the bad dreams.

* * *

><p>She lay down on her pallet and closed her eyes, afraid to sleep but feeling the weight of exhaustion in her bones. It seemed like a moment, a flash and suddenly it was daylight, the colony was swarming with life. She sat up, her back ached, her shoulders ached, her head ached. "Goddess." She hissed.<p>

"You all right, girl?" She opened her eyes to see Graham, another field agent, sitting on his pallet rubbing his hands through his short hair. "You look like shite."

"Never better." She said through her teeth.

"Sounds like something big is happening." He muttered. "Must have something to do with those yanks."

"You think they're up to no good?" She asked.

He shrugged. "I'm just a grunt, Sol." He said and gave a lopsided smile. "If it means peace and quiet, it might not be a bad thing at all."

He stood and headed toward the showers and she remained sitting crookedly on her bunk thinking on his words.

* * *

><p>Miss S<p> 


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

* * *

><p>"Hi there." Hank Raeburn was ready with an easy grin and bright eyes. "I was hoping to see you again." His handsome face dazzled her for a moment, she could almost forget her bad mood, the confusion as a crowd gathered somewhere behind his back.<p>

Soldier blinked. "What's going on?"

"The official word is being given to the civilians." He said glancing back at the crowd. "Evac begins tomorrow at 0800."

She gritted her teeth.

"You want to come? The Major General gives a great pitch. They'll be naming the new colony Eden Two."

She lifted angry eyes to his face, she wasn't mad at him, as Graham said, they were just grunts, they did what they were told, like all good soldiers. Hank didn't seem to notice her glare. "The Major may seem like an asshole but he's basically a good guy." He said. "This is really for the best for all of you."

"I don't believe that." She said glancing up at him and then away. Frustrated with the whole situation. Angry, sad, and thinking of the dead: her mother soaked through with blood, the city undulating in the darkness, the feel of fresh blood on her hands, the warmth of it on her face. She shuddered.

"Look, I know this must be tough."

"Do you?" She challenged capturing his clear grey eyes.

"My home was destroyed. I watched my parents' die, they were trapped in our burning home. If it weren't for the Major General and Lord Descouedres I'd be fried too." She knew the name Descouedres, he was an immortal Lord of the Night, The Saint, he had founded safe colonies, magic protected bubbles where those who chose to live in peace could co-exist. He had emerged in the US but had moved over other continents helping to protect the innocent, the vulnerable.

"I didn't mean that." She said. "I'm sorry, everyone's had it tough."

"No problem." He said with that easy grin. "You should think about getting on the convoy, Soldier."

"What about Eden?" She asked. "What about London?"

"The city is gone, girl."

She shook her head. "I don't believe that." Her mother had died for this city. She could feel the phantom of her mother's blood on her cheek, faintly warm. "You don't know anything about it." She whispered.

He grasped her hand and she startled but did not pull away, his hand was warm and large and hers was swallowed by the comfort of his touch. He held her hand whilst they stood on the fringe of the crowd, all the colonists had come to listen to Major General Keller's rhetoric.

She was numb, barely able to comprehend his words, her heart was thumping rapid and painful in her chest and her knees felt like jelly. The air around her seemed to become static charged and she could see wisps of her hair start to rise skyward.

"Holy shit." She heard Raeburn mutter and pull his hand from hers, he was cradling his wrist from where it had touched her cuff, his skin burnt, she looked up at him with hollow eyes.

"Sorry." She murmured and walked dazedly away and the sound of clapping and cheering erupted behind her.

* * *

><p>Alan found Soldier standing in the atrium among the candy hues of peony and peaseblossom flowers. "What are you doing here?" She seemed startled as if she hadn't heard him approach, her eyes shot to his, her expression was grave and eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Hiding?"<p>

She shrugged.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Sarge?" Her voice was husky.

"No one has elected to stay but you, Sol." Alan murmured. He watched her hands clench into fists and slowly unclench, she turned her face away from him and he heard a sigh pass her lips. "You will have no purpose out there now."

"I can't go." She whispered.

He grasped her sleeve and pulled her to face him. "You can."

She shook her head, hair sliding over her cheeks, her eyes large aqueous pools as they angled up to meet his face. "You don't understand."

"Explain it to me then." He said fiercely and watched as her lips moved as if trying to form words but finding none she gave a shrug. "Help me understand, Sol."

"People have died trying to keep our community safe." Her voice was barely above a whisper as if she were trying to contain herself and the full force of her fury.

He grasped her arm. "By going with them we are keeping our community safe, safer than it could ever be here in Britain."

"What was the point of their sacrifice if we're just going to leave?"

"They would rather we be truly free." He slowly removed his grasp from her arm, fingers trailing over her sleeve. "She would rather you be safe, Sol."

She dropped her head to hide her eyes and the new tears that gathered. "I can't leave, Alan."

"I want you to change your mind."

Soldier's dark head moved from side to side. _No_.

Alan straightened his back, his shoulder squaring as he withdrew emotionally and then physically as well. "I have a briefing."

"Okay, Sarge." She gave a nod and turned away from him, back to the comfort of the silence and the flora.

Alan marched toward the conference rooms, he tried to push the great ball of sadness that had gathered in his throat. When he arrived he found the others already ensconced in their seats, Magda sitting stiff backed, Grant slouching beside her and two of the leadership Gareth Redhead and Peter Greyson looking soberly up at him.

"You're late." Gareth said with a dark brow arched.

"I know. Shall we begin?" He asked and took a seat at the top of the table.

Gareth turned sparkling blue eyes on each face in turn. "We're here to discuss the dr-"

"Soldier." Alan interjected.

"Yes, Soldier Dominick." Gareth continued unperturbed. "She is the only one who has expressed an interest in remaining behind."

"Yes, sir." Alan confirmed.

"She cannot stay." Magda said. "She will not be safe."

"It's her decision." Grant's voice was soft and sad.

"What's the report on her hardware?" Peter asked.

Grant's eyes flicked to Alan's as he spoke. "She's starting to reject the latest implant; her healing capabilities are increasing at a higher rate than previous observations."

"Do you know why?" Alan asked.

He spread his hands. "No, I can only theorise."

"And the…protection?" Gareth asked turning to Magda.

"They are still intact." Magda said raising her chin high in the air. "The strongest Practitioners of our generation have ensured the cuffs will remain unbroken."

Gareth nodded. "And everything else is…stable?"

"Yes, sir." Grant nodded.

"Then I see no need for further discussion."

"But who will repair the wards?" Magda asked half rising from her seat.

"There will be no need of them. Not out there." Gareth said coolly. "As long as we're safe in Eden Two there is no need for us to concern ourselves with it."

"She will be so much meat out there." Magda said.

"That is her decision." Peter said, his voice soft but unconcerned.

"I don't like it, not one bit." She muttered.

"Me either." Alan said his voice husky from too much thought and not enough talk.

"There is something bad coming, the seers all say so." Magda said chair scraping as she got to her feet, staring boldly into his face. "We should all leave together. All of us."

Peter reached across the table to pat Magda's arm in a gesture of sympathy but it was a hollow gesture and though he spoke softly he bore no sympathy for Soldier Dominick nor those that cared about her. "It is out of our hands, she doesn't know the truth and she never needs to."

"Then you're condemning her." Magda said in disgust snatching her arm out of his reach.

"She has made her choice, like any free citizen and she has chosen to go her own way." Gareth said.

"And what happens if he gets hold of her?" Magda asked.

"She's skilled enough to evade capture." Alan said.

"A fool's hope." Magda sat back down, her features flushed with passion. Alan shared her doubt, one soldier in a city of beasts had little chance of survival and fewer chances of evading capture.

"You could command her to leave." Grant said eyes on Gareth and Peter and they shared a look between them.

"No." Alan said when the two men didn't respond. "She wouldn't listen to them. She won't even listen to me."

"Then let me spell her-" Magda began.

"No." Alan interjected. "No we won't use any more magic against her."

"She has a point." Grant said, a hopeful glean in his voice. "It would be as if she had made the decision herself and she would never need to know of it."

"No." Alan said firmly.

"I think this discussion is over. Soldier Dominick will be excluded from the Eden Two register. She will be known as a Colony deserter." Gareth said. "I'll inform the Major General."

Alan's hands trembled with rage and he balled them into tight fists. Gareth and Peter were the first to leave and when they did Grant leaned forward in his chair, his lips parting as if he were going to speak but he seemed to decide against it and slumped back in his chair shaking his head from side to side. "Let's just say our goodbyes then, eh?"

* * *

><p>"I think he likes you." Lily murmured nodding toward Hank Raeburn.<p>

"He's a sweet kid." Soldier said distractedly.

Lily squeezed her arm. "It's not easy to find something real in this world." She said softly, speaking from experience. "If you get the chance, Sol, take it and don't let it go."

Soldier nodded, she appreciated Lily's words but she didn't comprehend them, when she glanced at Hank she didn't feel anything of what Lily spoke about; maybe she was incapable of love in that way: she couldn't conceive of herself with a family.

A small blur came running across the green and Soldier was almost taken down by Persephone who clung tightly to her leg, smothering her tears against Soldier's hip. "Won't you come with us?" Persephone asked her large brown eyes glassy and tears wetting her round caramel cheeks.

Soldier shook her head, no. "I can't, Seph."

"Where will you go? Who will protect you?" The tears began to fall faster now.

"Don't worry about me, cadet." She said and knelt to embrace her little friend, laying her lips against the girl's soft round cheek. "I can take care of myself. And you must take care of your mum, okay?"

Persephone nodded and ran to cling to her mother who picked her up and held her tight. Lily muttered 'thank you' to Soldier before walking away to comfort her child. Soldier watched them for some time before Alan joined her fresh from his debriefing, he didn't speak at first, staring with her at Lily and her daughter.

"You can still have a life, Sol." Alan said softly and glanced at Private Raeburn who raised a hand to wave at them both from a distance. "Children."

"For the goddess' sake." She hissed under her breath, sick of hearing it, sick of them dangling the American soldier in front of her as if he were ever a temptation. She had never dreamt of having a family of her own, someone to love and protect her, to raise children with the tenacity of Persephone Jones…she was a soldier first and foremost and she understood that that life was not meant to be hers. What man would put up with her anyway?

Alan grasped her by the arms and pulled her into his chest, she was startled but clung to him, knowing it was the last time she would see him, the last time she would touch him, smell him. She breathed him deeply, the comforting scent of a soldier, his body still muscled and strong.

"They've closed down your access to the grid." Alan said softly into her ear. "There's a backdoor that will give you temporary access to the data files, maps and danger spots, you'll have a ten minute window max before PDA watchers shut you down, understand?"

"Thank you." She said and as she pulled back he tucked a data card into her hand.

"I want you to come with us do you hear me, Soldier?"

"Yes, sir." She said tears prickling behind her eyes.

He turned away to hide the gloss of tears on his own eyes.

Grant waved at her from a distance and was ushered inside a vehicle by some PDA army goon.

She would miss them, these strange people that made up her friends, her family. She watched their backs as they moved into the square tanks that would deliver them to the coast. She watched and waited until they were all packed away, row by row on the green lawns, surrounded and shepherded by the American soldiers.

She turned to see a four by four pulling up and saw the Major General through the window; he glared down at her from where he sat. She pulled up her hood over her forehead and stuck up her two fingers as a parting gesture. "Arsehole." She muttered and turned her back on the cars, heading inside the deserted corridors of the newly abandoned Eden Colony.

* * *

><p>Miss S<p> 


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

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><p>Just because humans didn't inhabit the city didn't mean it wasn't teeming with life. It was filled with non-humans, and any humans there were were captives in brothels and feasting halls, slaves and meat to their inhuman masters.<p>

Vampires. Witches. Dark Fae. Shapeshifters. Werewolves. Revenants; each had territories, homes, or even businesses to run. It was a dark, twisted, imperfect antediluvian society but society nonetheless.

It took four hours on foot to travel to London Bridge, weighed down with a pack full of smoke grenades, ammunition, data trackers, two gas masks and their filters. She had the ghost grid raised on her cuff, the map was uploaded with the last tracking data which would highlight the movement of species through the city and help her avoid danger spots but the information was growing fast out of date.

She pulled up her hood and scarf wrapped tight around the bottom of her face, the scarf kept the taste of ash and sulphur from her throat. Through the slit she peered around to gage her surroundings.

She could see the neat rows of bodies marching in perfect unison; their faces were hidden behind black, faceless masks emitting no sense of conscience. They were The Dragon's armies, efficiently trained killers of shapeshifter descent.

Above their heads the dark wings of Ravens cast long shadows on the ground.

Their strong hold was the Palace of Westminster, but more animal clans lived in the ruins of the city jealously guarding their territories. They were fiercely competitive and proud, she had once seen a Vulture tear apart a Lynx and the Lynx had changed into a man giving his last rattle of mortal breath.

She shuddered to think of it now.

The Power of her mother's kind had receded as The Dragon had sought vengeance early in his reign, demanding the death of all witch kind even those with the remnants of witch blood. The bloodshed of those first years was legendary, it lead to many witches hid their children and denied their heritage but in the end they all faced the firing lines of The Dragon and then one day it stopped; no one knew why.

It was only later that witches would find solace in the presence of two Powerful spell casters: Cyridven and Nicneven; whether either were the real goddesses of legend or named for them, Soldier didn't know, but they claimed to be one and the same.

Not much was known about the mechanics of Cyridven's court other than it spilled onto the astral plane and this way she could protect her coven from The Dragon and his poison city.

However, Nicneven had tied her coven to prostitution and staved off the heat of the city with the magic of ice; her women traded their bodies and magic for coin in the brothels in Cheapside and she had heard from the men in the barracks that business was booming.

Iliana had always warned Soldiers against the covens of London. Soldier had never had time to ask her mother about her people, what legacy she might hold in both her body and blood.

During the rise of The Dragon a vast number of humans who hadn't become slaves or prey were made Revenants - vampires that had not altogether crossed over; mindless creatures that hungered for blood and flesh. They haunted the streets like wraiths, moaning for mortality, for oblivion, for flesh.

As for the vampires themselves they were hard to find, they tended to surface only to feed and kept their locations very private; they were once considered a threat to The Dragon when there had been a large number of them: being both of great age and Power and once having ruled the world. They used to have a grand Court but the Houses had long since been decimated leaving only disparate hunters and gatherings across the world.

Though she had heard in other large cities east of the Rhine the vampires had capitalised on the chaos The Dragon had brought about, they ruled their own vast territories and citadels, enslaving weaker beings, mostly humans.

In London, vampires were on The Dragon's hit list and were hunted vigorously; Soldier had never seen one outside of The Colony.

Perhaps most interesting of all those that slithered and crawled from the shadow of fable and nightmare were the Dark Fae who delighted in vice and decay.

They erupted from their mounds and astral gates the moment human grip on reality failed, they instigated wars and glutted on death, celebrating in the new bloody world. Their bright counterparts had long since receded deep into the astral planes, forsaking mortals and cuckoos alike.

The Dragon presided over all the chaos.

He was still one being, Soldier wondered why someone didn't just take him out. She knew it was no small feat to slay a dragon but it had been done; her mother had done it when she had been a girl or so the stories went.

She headed quickly into the open night, a dark figure against darkness lit by nothing more than the silvery radiance of the moon. She summoned what magic she could to conceal her presence, it was a matter of bending the light to appear like nothing but deepest shadow.

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><p>Soldier was compelled by some power outside of her own desires to stop; she pressed herself against the wall to listen to the two Black Masks, dragon soldiers, who stood side by side, their voices muffled as they spoke. "The litters will be fighting tonight."<p>

"Don't remind me."

"I've laid money down on Namir."

"We've not had a leopard win since '33, you should have laid your earnings on Arslan."

"It's been twice as long since a lion has come out on top."

He stopped, head tilting as if trying to detect a sound. "Can you hear something?" He murmured.

She had half a fear they had heard her.

The other shook his head. "Nothing. A Revenant."

Soldier held a breath, fearing they had sensed her and relieved they had thought her a Revenant. Even as she thought it a large figure, broad shouldered and slender in the waist stepped into the square of light. He was handsome, with a peculiar shade of orange-blond hair and keen glacial blue eyes. "Haven't you heard?" He said with a cold, comfortless smile showing sharp canines as if he were vampire but he wasn't. "You should've put your money on Lakra. Now get out of here."

The Black Masks trotted away but the unmasked soldier remained, staring curiously into the dark, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in the air.

Another Black Mask appeared, a gun balanced in his arms. "Problem?" He asked, a wry note of humour in his mufled voice.

"No, Lieutenant General." He gave one last departing glare before turning to his comrade. "Just the boys laying bets on the losing clan, as usual."

"Lakra?" Came the goading reply.

There was a distance rumble, akin to thunder but the skies were as clear as they could possibly be, they both looked up at the clouds, even Soldier craned her neck but there was nothing more swirling above them other than the sulphurous gathering of clouds. "Let's get moving, Percival." The Lieutenant General said putting up his gun.

The unmasked soldier moved away, moving fast and efficiently through the darkness, almost too fast for Soldier to detect. The Lieutenant General hesitated in following his man, he turned and his mask angled toward her, as if knowing she was there and she was frozen, her breath choked.

After moments he moved away, his pace slow, cautious and and when she knew he had gone she found the nearest manhole and slid into the tunnels beneath the city.

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><p>Miss S<p> 


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

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><p><em>Soldier was watching her mother sleeping in a bed she did not recognise. Her pale lashes were feathery crescents on her cheeks, her lips parted as she breathed; they fluttered as if trying to speak. Soldier was not a girl now but a grown woman, standing at the foot of her mother's bed watching her.<em>

_Of course it was a dream, Soldier had a strange feeling all about her flesh, the air was as thick as liquid and as she moved she felt as if she were wading through it._

_She reached out, her hand moving slowly but her muscles working hard to propel forward and she grasped a fringe of the cool silken sheet, it was ivory and beautifully textured in her grasp, she began to tug at the sheet and it was heavy as if weighing more than Soldier herself._

_Her mother sat up as the silk was removed and she was nude beneath the sheets and lovely to behold. Her silvery pale hair was like moonlight, her eyes were amethyst, there were pinpricks of starlight in her gaze. "Who are you?" The voice was dulcet with the barest edge of hostility, mistrust, fear._

_Soldier began to shake her head, 'I won't hurt you' she wanted to say but moving her mouth took more strength than she could muster and only the slow dull shake of her head could be offered to comfort the vision of her mother who moved gracefully to cover her breasts._

"_Why are you here?" Her mother's voice again and her voice was the sound of bells. "You should leave. Leave now. Leave now." _Leave now.

Soldier woke with a gasp sitting bolt upright and surprised at the weightless feel of her limbs. It was a dream. A fucking dream. She could have cried or laughed or both. It had seemed so real and yet unreal, her mother's feature imprinted on the back of her eyelids.

She was in a bolt hole. Safe. Still sitting on the bunk now with her head in her hands trying to clear herself of the last vestige of dreams. Strange dreams. Bad dreams. She had the awful feeling of something imminent. It was only moments later that she realised her cuffs were hot against her skin, she could smell her flesh which was slowly cooking beneath them.

She had to move. _You should leave. Leave now._ She collected her things quickly.

She emerged somewhere north of Tower Bridge. The street was clear, somewhere between a Revenant haunt and the brothels and meat dens of the cathedral and Cheapside. She removed her mask and pulled up her hood and tightened her scarf about her face.

On street level she had no doubt she could be spotted from above by the watching Ravens but if she kept herself moving they could mistake her for a lesser being, a scuttling creature, a Revenant or Fae perhaps. She could hear movement, something coming so she slipped into a narrow alley where shadows ran deep and tall and the stench of rot made her eyes water.

She came upon a struggle, the silhouette of a boy or a small creature struggling with a frenzied Revenant, there was no mistaking its crooked posture, its gnarled limbs, it was salivating and growling. It was hungry and it smelt fresh meat.

She glanced behind her should to find more had appeared, crouching at the floor of the alley, blocking her retreat.

She tipped down her scarf enough to say. "Let him go."

The vestige of humanity in the dead thing caused its head to turn, his grasp went slack, the boy slid to the floor. Its face was grey and mottled, its lips withered and corrupt leaving flash hanging, a tongue lolling between one upper and lower intact teeth.

It made some lip smacking noises that the ones behind her seemed to respond to because they hadn't moved. Slowly she reached for the knife at her thigh and it was that instant the Revenant began to run toward her, jowls flying back against its face, eyes wide and intent.

She took out her knife and spun into the Revenants charge, slashing him across the abdomen, the stench of his bowels spilling on the concrete. But he did not fall, he would only stop if she took his head and she didn't want to get close enough to do that.

She spun out of its path but it followed, all one track mind and great strength, it charged again like a bull and she stepped out of its line of attack but it had grasped the edge of her scarf and pulled it from her face until her mouth was exposed to the dense, foul tasting air.

It tugged her forward and she keeled forward, its arms reached for her as if it were going to catch her in a macabre dance but she swung herself round and swept its legs from beneath it and it landed in a horrible wet thud.

She lifted her face briefly to see the boy she had saved and it was indeed a boy. "Run." She said.

The Revenant tried to grasp her by the ankle, to drag her down to him and she plunged her knife deep into its wrist and the flesh parted easily but the bone was still strong. She hacked at his wrist until he came off, the fingers still clawed about her ankle.

A great cry rang out from behind her and the other Revenants fell onto their knuckles like great silver back gorilla's charging at her all at once.

She picked up her knife and sheathed it quickly, she glanced up once more at the boy who stood staring open mouthed in horror. "Run." She grunted.

His eyes widened and he nodded mutely, he scrambled to his feet and ran, tripping once and then disappearing into the mist and darkness. That moment of distraction caused her some ground and a Revenant had jumped as if he would crush her beneath his weight and she had to roll to one side to miss the impact. The Revenant skidded losing half of his face against the concrete.

The Revenant without the hand had lurched up behind her and was reaching again, she rolled him over her, straddling it, taking hold of its head and snapped its neck.

She took a moment to breathe but even that instant was a luxury: the Revenants twitched, they were reviving, their bodies shuddering and ready to begin their assault anew. She had to leave. She had to get out of the dark.

* * *

><p>'Mistress Nicneven's' was emblazoned across the door in large pink and blue neon lettering.<p>

Her mother had always warned her about Mistress Nicneven. The once-goddess worked dark, crone-magic and there was much darkness, death and ice. She had come back to the plane of reality, woken by the magic that had raised The Dragon and his kin. She had come to the city and had made a bargain with The Dragon and her lucrative brothel had sprung up in this place, it would keep mortal blood on the market to feed and pleasure the rest of the beasts.

Why a once-goddess would allow herself to be reduced to this, Soldier couldn't fathom. Surely there were places more conducive to her magic out there beyond the city where the red clouds of poison did not reach.

Soldier felt the smallest of warding spells shimmering against her skin as she passed through the doorway.

Horrible red light swamped her making her look like a created carved of jasper stone. The perfumed scent was like a fist ramming up her nostrils and down her throat making her cough. When she has past the corridor she was thrown into harsh, bright halogen light, it peered through coloured beads of glass throwing a kaleidoscope of colours across the ante-room.

She heard the clinking of glasses and old blues music on a scratchy gramophone in the distance.

The room was decorated with semi-precious stone necklaces, swathes of silk and chiffon, the carpet was a whirl of 70s mustard and pea green colours. It seemed an unpleasant place to Soldier who could sense beneath the gaudy glitter something old, decay and frigid.

The music, the rattling of glass and low murmur of conversation ceased instantly.

A curtain parted an effeminate man glided through. "Welcome." His painted face mimicking the makeup of a woman, he held to the fringe of his short velvet cap and gave a decadent bow. "To Mistress Nicneven's den of vice and iniquity."

The music resumed and the gathered went back to their drinks and conversation all save the effeminate man who strutted up to her. "Are you friend or are you foe?" He asked.

She pulled down the hood and unwound the scarf taking in a lungful of icy air. "Friend, I hope."

He nodded. "Of course of course." He grasped the sleeve of her hoodie and dragged her through the curtain, through a beaded curtain and into the parlour where men and beasts sat with drinks in their hand. The waiting room before selection, she presumed.

It smelt of cigar smoke and alcohol, above the perfume and beneath it all that same unsettling scent of necrosis. Her eyes moved brief and coldly over the patrons, all men, all simmering with lust and other apatites, Soldier fought not to bear her teeth.

"Please sit." The caped man motioned to a salvaged chaise lounge.

"I'd rather not." She replied with a cold expression.

He smiled innocuously, his unremarkable brown eyes moving up and down her face, taking study of her proportions, weighing up her worth. Was she a customer, whore or a trouble maker? She could almost see the cogs in his head tuning. "You seek the Mistress?"

She nodded.

"From one spell caster to another, I say welcome again, young Harman." That caught the attention of the eavesdroppers, they elbowed one another she felt all the eyes on her anew.

Soldier formed a cold smile and took hold of the man's arm squeezing tight until he yelped in pain. "Show me to Nicneven, old man." She allowed him to take back his arm from her grasp, he shook his nose high in the air and sniffed. "Fine."

He motioned toward another beaded curtain, lapis blue and amethyst purple and she pushed them aside impatiently walking away from the predatory curiosity of the clientele. She followed the man down a narrow corridor, she could feel the density of magic cloying upon her, slithering over the parts of her exposed skin, leeching from her or at least trying to.

Women stood in the shadows, veiled in gossamer shades of chiffon, their large, luminous eyes watching Soldier carefully as she passed.

Their breasts and buttocks were bare, light played off the shades of their skin. She saw old women and some young and the children that looked out from behind their mothers, all girls. Soldier was curious, she couldn't help but be, there was something about those women, ethereal and lovely in all shapes and sizes that called to her.

They were her sisters. She caught one or more of their eyes and she saw a touch of desolation in their gaze, resigned to their fate and yet not weak because of it.

The effeminate man grasped her elbow and she startled. "Keep up, dear."

They were heading deeper and deeper still into the building, it felt like a rabbits warren and the feeling of ice, of claustrophobia amplified with each step. It was a vacuum of crone-magic, dark and powerful magic that had everything to do with death and life after death.

"In there." The man said pointing a painted finger nail at a quaint parlour door. She headed forward unafraid, well not truly unafraid but she could swallow her trepidation like any good soldier. The man grasped her hoodie again, stopping her in her tracks, whispering quickly. "Never look at her right side, she is so conscious of it, she will not take kindly to it."

She nodded and knocked politely on the parlour door waiting for an answer.

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><p>The once-goddess was aged and rotting, the man had not been wrong in speaking of the right side, her right side was bloated and necrotic much like the features of a Revenant; maggots feasted on her dead flesh and the scent of mortal decay clung to her like a heady perfume.<p>

At the sight of that withering half of her, Soldier doubted her reasoning in coming to Nicneven. Despite her being a patron of witches, once worshipped by them as a goddess, she was now a ravaged creature with a mad glint in her eye.

"I had always hoped that I would come to make your acquaintance…"

"Soldier." She supplied her name almost as an afterthought for she was thoroughly distracted by the old woman's ghastly visage.

"How quaint." She said and held out a porky, pallid hand for Soldier to take; she didn't and Nicneven withdrew her hand, anger moved sluggishly through her bloated features.

"I see The Dragon has been good for business." Soldier said looking around at the gaudy collection of human artefacts, chintz and porcelain and semi-precious stones.

"Were it not for that old serpent I would never have been able to come to the surface." Nicneven said dreamily. "Though he is quite particular about whom he allows to operate in his domain."

It was true what she said, many beings of old had risen with The Dragons, beings that were worshipped as gods, beings that had been bound in realms above or below the earth itself. Nicneven was but one ancient power but there were others who were too terrifying to mention.

"It must be difficult for you to once be worshipped as a goddess." Soldier murmured her eyes moving around the gaudy décor her bravado wearing thin. "And now you're just a humble brothel keeper."

The air grew icy and it hurt Soldier to draw a breath, Nicneven's fury could be gauged by the temperature, once she was a maiden of ice, presiding over winter and witchcraft. The Dragon made the city ever-hot. "Who do you think you are? You are a bastard daughter of a witch and no true witch yourself." Nicneven hissed.

"I am your kind." Soldier said, her voice rasping in her throat. She thought of the faces of the witches in the halls, hiding in shadows and behind their veils.

The icy air depleted and she was able to breathe a little easier. "Yes." Nicneven said cheerfully. "A true daughter of magic, Hearth Woman, I am pleased to finally be acquainted." Her mood shifted so quickly that Soldier was once reminded that Nicneven was mad.

The Dragon had made it this way, all the Powers of the land reduced to this because of the density of smoke and sulphur he held dominion over, his magic was fierce and the Powers of the land were starved because of it. Soldier sighed wearily. "I am alone, Lady Nicneven."

"Alone?" Nicneven enquired and laughed a brittle shudder inducing sound.

"I have left my people."

"Do you seek something of me, my dear? Protection? Employment?"

Of course she would think that, the women she harboured were all witch blood, all whores; she struggled to remember why she thought this was better than the street, with the Revenant's flesh between her hands, the bones snapping as she twisted its neck. Her mother had always warned her about Nicneven. "I seek shelter for one night only."

"And why would I give you that?" Nicneven asked leaning forward, saliva escaping her rotted jowl. "You will walk about my pretties with airs and graces that do not befit you, half blood. Would you incite them to rebellion also? To use their parlour tricks to overturn the Lord Overseer of London, The Dragon?" She was laughing now; her whole body quivering, rippling with glee.

Nicneven saw more than she let on and Soldier was startled, she had not told the witch-goddess that she opposed The Dragon.

When she had overcome the sudden fit of giggles Nicneven sat back with a radiant smile, an echo of her once-beauty was there, and she appeared for a sliver quick moment, young.

Soldier got to one knee. "Give me shelter for one night, my lady."

"And what shall you give me in return?"

"Winter." She whispered.

The large head tilted curiously: the once-goddess was interested. She was starved for something more than the brittle heat The Dragon had brought and the sometime rain, it was England after all, but even the rain turned hot and poisonous. "Is it in your power to do such a thing?" Nicneven asked softly.

Soldier swallowed a sudden lump in her throat, staring down at her cuffs, the light glinted off of them, she peered at the distorted reflection of her own face and she anticipated the pain. She forced strength and conviction into her voice. "I will give you winter."

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><p>Miss S<p> 


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

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><p>Soldier sat on her heels in Nicneven's parlour.<p>

She had relieved herself of her backpack and jacket, removed her gloves and rolled up the sleeves of her suit to reveal the silver cuffs. She had watched from the periphery of her vision both Nicneven and the effeminate man recoil slightly at the sight of them, perhaps they sensed the magic, or perhaps they were merely offended by the aesthetics.

There were more eyes on her; the most curious of the witches were staring at her from the doorways and secret spy holes.

Soldier pushed all of that away and closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing the simple inhale and exhale that commanded the flow of blood, and rhythm of her heart. The whole world receded to her body and its functions and within it the magical thread that was at the core of her.

That was when the heat gathered at her wrists and a breath hissed sharply between her teeth.

She began to chant, the sound she had heard escape her mother's lips, summoning her magic. The Power was sluggish in coming and it hurt and even in this she mourned that she would never be as Powerful as her mother, she would never be much of a Hearth Woman although it was still in her blood. Half her blood anyway.

In her mind she shaped her magic into the form of a grappling hook and with a shaky breath she launched the shape like a weapon at the once-goddess; Nicneven doubled over, not prepared for the moment of impact. Soldier tugged on the metaphysical line until Nicneven's crone magic came flittering down the cord.

The effeminate man moved to intervene but Nicneven stalled him, the witches at Soldier's back were moving into the room caught between fear and the duty to help their queen.

The Power adhered to Soldier's will and she would use Nicneven's magic to amplify what she fought to bring about.

She could hear her own voice like a dulcet bell echoing in the background but more than her voice was a chorus of women's voices, she felt as if her mother and more than her mother, the first mother were with her. The magic was that had started as a small current spread like electricity through her body, the pain at her wrists became almost unbearable and her chanting soon turned into screaming.

The first snowflake landed between Soldier's right eyelashes.

Everybody went still.

Icy wind tore through the room, more real than Nicneven's ice had ever felt and on the wind the snow was falling in spirals and melting into the paisley rug.

Nicneven cried out in joy and Soldier opened her eyes in time to see the once-goddess decay reversing, she was becoming whole and then she was becoming young and suddenly she was the willowy beauty of legend.

Soldier collapsed on the ground when it was done, smelling the faint scent of her own singed flesh, the clammy touch of her bandana soaked through with the sweat of her exhaustion and the flakes of snow melted before they descended tot touch her steel wrist cuffs.

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><p>Soldier was drained after the exertion of power and Nicneven had her carried to a small, dark place to sleep without fear of being disturbed. She flashed in and out of consciousness, enough to see the small pale faces of the witches stroking her face and laying a hessian blanket over her body. The scent of fresh blooming flowers rose around her and it was sweet.<p>

She succumbed to exhaustion, more than any physical battle drill in the barracks or mission in the field. She slept and she dreamt.

It was a dream and it was a memory both; _the grey old woman glared at her. "You should never ever use your magic." She admonished and struck Soldier on the back of the head. "Do you hear me, girl?"_

_Soldier remembered the wizened old face, the shrewd and narrowed eyes framed by an overreaching brow. The nursery tutor Miss Harty, the old bat who used to tell tales of ancient dragons and princes such tales to insight the imagination of all the young who gathered to her like bees to their honeycomb._

_But Soldier was grown and clothed in her army garb, the bandana tight around her forehead, her cuffs glinting like silver moonlight._

"_Yes miss." Came Soldier's tremulous reply._

"_What would your mother think?"_

"_Please; don't tell." She had reached and touched the soft, aged hand, small fingers clinging to the hard knuckles, squeezing desperately. It was not her mother's wrath that she feared; it was her disappointment even though she was long since passed._

"_Your magic is evil that must be bound up." Miss Harty hissed, her breath whistling through her false teeth. _

_Soldier felt fear strike like black lightning into her very heart._

She woke with a start, a sudden icy thrill raced up her spine tearing her from sleep and into the darkness of Nicneven's room. She knew she was not alone. It took a moment for her eyes to become accustomed to the dark and she could see the figure beyond the bed.

He was beautiful, olive skinned, green-grey eyes, long dark lashes, he had a sensuous mouth with its full bottom lip and cropped brown hair. He was young, in his mid -twenties, hard muscled and lithe like any good soldier. Her eyes flicked to the black faceless mask, then back to his face.

He was watching her intently: eyes like fingertips moving over her exposed skin.

"What do you want?" She asked petulantly, her voice hoarse from newly waking.

"That's an interesting tone coming from a whore." He said as he undid his utility belt, there was something clinical about the whole thing, the belt fell to the floor with a thud.

Her eyes went to his flat stomach, his slender hips then back up to his face. "I'm not a whore." She countered though her voice was softer than she'd like.

He took off his shirt exposing his well sculpted chest, no ounce of fat on him, his body was all muscle and purpose, trained for the kill. "I haven't come for the fantasy." He said with a smile, straight white teeth flashing in the semi dark. "I've just come for the flesh."

She knew then that he was a shape shifter, muscles rippling under his flesh, but she could not sense what beast hid beneath his skin maybe something canine or feline. She pulled out her knife from her thigh sheath, holding it low to her leg, his eyes flicked to the blade and then to her eyes. "Take one step and I'll slice you." She warned.

"Like I said." His gaze was bright, venomous. "I've come for the flesh."

He rushed at her; he was a blur as he tackled her to the ground. He was a well-trained soldier, he was a Dragon's man, she had known it from the uniform but it didn't prepare her for his deftness. He pinned her down, his hands clasping her arms, her wrists, and she gasped in pain and a moment later a glittering thread was pulled taut, and they collapsed in a heap of limbs.

She was trapped in a crystal prison of her mind and she felt his presence too and fury blossomed to overpower her panic. She sensed his curiosity, he was already confident that he could defend himself and that he deemed her nonthreatening. "What is this place?" He asked.

He probably thought this was part of a witch's parlour tricks, the whore's fantasy weaving, and it only amplified her anger. "Get out of my mind." She growled fiercely and with all the psychic energy she could muster she forced him out and they were back in Mistress Nicneven's dark, grimy little room.

He was still on top of her blinking down at her with wonder. She saw the flecks of blue and grey in his green eyes, the eyes of a predator. He was a leopard. His dark hair fell onto her forehead, tickling, intimate. His body was incredibly warm and all hard muscle and her breath felt hotly out of her mouth. "Get off of me." She pushed him off.

She rolled on her side and grasped the knife that had fallen from her grasp when he had touched her and she was quickly on her feet ready to defend herself.

"Who are you?" He asked softly.

The door burst pen. "Oh, my." The painted man said, hand fluttering to cover his mouth. "You are in the wrong room, sir."

The soldier's eyes flicked to his and then back to Soldier.

"Come I have a girl that is much more amenable to your needs."

The soldier smiled, just a hint in the corner of his mouth.

"If you would please come with me, sir."

He allowed himself to be pulled along by the man but he glanced over his shoulder until Soldier was out of his sight.

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><p>Miss S<p> 


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

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><p>Soldier slept uneasily after the Black Mask's departure, her body was still painfully aware of his touch, his breath, his scent, it all lingered about her driving her to distraction.<p>

She rose after having slept only moments, she ran her hand over the sweat damp bandana and tightened the knot at the back of her head. She looked around for her pack but it was gone and she headed toward the parlour to retrieve her belongings.

The girls hands moved over her as if she were some kind of touchstone, their eyes were larger than they should be and their breath parting from their lips in sighs. "Such Power." They marvelled but it planted a seed of fear inside Soldier, fear that had echoed in her dream, such Power she was never meant to use.

They lead her to a private parlour and allowed her to sit, their hands still moving over her suit, her hair and the bandana; she jerked away as they tried to pull the fabric away.

They brought her belongings to her, cooing and attending her like handmaidens.

She inspected the contents of her bag, ensuring nothing had been removed or tampered with and tried her best to ignore the women as they stared until it began to irritate her. She pulled out and checked her hand gun and the witches gasped collectively as she popped the clip and slapped it back in.

"You shouldn't be locked up like this, doing what you do." She said through her teeth.

"It is pleasant when The Dragon's soldiers are here for we lay bets with them for the pick of their litters and some are kind and talk and treat us with delicacy." One of them said.

"They're just using you." She snapped. "If their king commanded it they would kill you all with or without delicacy."

"And what would you have us do?" Another girl said as she perched on the arm of a couch.

"You could be free."

"What is freedom?" An older woman asked her voice underpinned with anger. "No one could survive out there, not now, we are fragile creatures protected only by the Mistress' ice and magic."

"You are all strong: your magic could protect you; I've seen humans with no magic protect themselves and thrive in spite of all The Dragon has done."

"And where are these humans?"

"Hyacinth." The old woman warned the witch who had asked.

Soldier shook her head vaguely. "In a better place."

"That's what they said when our mothers were slaughtered." Hyacinth murmured bitterly beneath her breath.

"Nicneven is our queen." The younger one said firmly. "We can't defy our Queen not even to defeat her enemy not if she won't allow it."

But of course that was the rub, Soldier thought with a rueful shake of her head, The Dragon was not the enemy to Nicneven for he had allowed her to carve out a lucrative business where she could preside as a Queen over these women who collectively could overthrow them both.

Soldier reached out and touched the hand of the young witch, startling her. "It was witch kind that once ended the age of dragons." Those words her mother had told her.

The women looked to one another as the kernel of knowledge lodge into the soil of their hearts.

The parlour curtains were thrust back abruptly and the effeminate man poked his head over the threshold, his nostrils large and visible as he tilted his head upward and his shrewd eyes moving about the faces of the women.

The women dropped their eyes to the ground, staring at everything, anything other than the man's face. "The ice has faded and the Mistress wants you out." The painted man's nose wrinkled in disdain.

Soldier eased into her hoodie, wrapped her scarf around her throat and picked up her pack with one hand. "Think about it." She said casually and followed the man out of the parlour of women.

She retraced the steps she had taken to the exit, following in the man's shadow and comely sway. She stepped out onto the street, the bitter breath of the city greeted her, knocking her hair back in a puff of angry air, she glanced behind her briefly.

"Don't come back in a hurry." The man said his voice hot with jealousy and slammed the door shut between them.

* * *

><p>Charles Desjardin was the name he had chosen for himself when he came into the employ of the witch Nicneven. As he fled the persecution of the shapeshifters who were eking out anyone with even the remnant of witch blood, and as a young boy he stumbled into the whorehouse.<p>

He had worked his way up from base whore to supervisor, second only to Nicneven herself and he jealously guarded his position and his Mistresses adulation.

When he slammed the door on Soldier Dominick he felt relief sing through every fibre of his being, the soldier brought with her the stink of rebellion and ruby heat of danger and the appalling prospect of beating him at his own game.

He moved quickly now to Nicneven's side feeling her want of him in a subtle tug on his soul fibre.

He entered the parlour that was still three inches deep in icy-sodden snow and gave a flourishing bow. "My lady."

"Where is she, Charles?" Nicneven asked her voice the clear and pleasant ringing of a bell.

He lifted his eyes to her and had to choke back his shock, for her rotted side was healed save a slash or two about the cheekbone and the rest of her was hale and young and dare he say beautiful.

"Wh…Wh…Who, my Lady?" He stammered.

"The Blood of the Hearth?" Nicneven's youthful countenance shone as she gave Soldier Dominick the epithet that Charles thought most underserving.

"Gone, my Lady." He said.

Nicneven went very still. "Where?" Her voice was still patient though he knew the storm bubbled before it brooked the surface.

"Gone, my Lady." He said more fearfully than a moment ago.

Nicneven's face transformed into a mask of wrath, the rotting side of her face degraded in an instant and the scent of it made him want to gag. "Bring her back to me." Nicneven howled. "Bring her back now. The Blood of the Hearth is mine, do you understand?"

"My Lady." He threw himself forward in genuflect as the infernal powers seemed to swirl around her in bitter scents of decay and the faint scent of sulphur. His face was pressed to the ice that melted to fetid water.

"Go." She bellowed and the doors were thrown open by the invisible fist of her power. "Bring me what is mine or suffer the consequences."

Charles picked himself up and fled. He had seen the Mistress flay a person alive for displeasing her and he lived every day teetering on the edge of her mercurial temper.

* * *

><p>Soldier, blissfully unaware of the roiling storm tearing through Nicneven's Den of Vice and Iniquity, she was skipping from shadow to shadow avoiding the other furtive shadows.<p>

Most modern citizens wanted to be left in peace, to scurry beneath the radar of the Black Masks who stood at every other intersection meticulously scanning identity papers and hauling in any illegals to be presented in the Palace of Westminster for judgement.

Soldier turned away from every corner where the Black Masks were lurking, using her cuff she emitted the fabricated scent of the shapeshifter knowing it would divert some curiosity away from her.

She was being followed, she had been for the past thirty minutes it had taken her to step out of the door at Nicneven's to head toward the slender streets and ruined patch of Russell Square; she had to avoid going up Red Lion Street knowing the soldiers preferred to march that way.

She knew of a place, an old supermarket that had been cordoned off, it still had supplies left from even before the war: tinned food and preserves. It had been abandoned a long time ago.

She ducked into an alley and waited, fighting the growing sound of her heartbeat, for the shadow to slip passed and it did only a few moments afterword, she lunged and grasped the limbs which were skinny beneath her gloved hands.

She held the figure against the wall, her forearm pressed against its throat. "Why are you following me?" She growled fiercely and recognised the young boy almost instantly, she had saved him from the Revenants only the night before.

His mouth opened wide and his head moved convulsively from side to side.

"Are you deaf?" She growled and then he stuck out his tongue and she recoiling, releasing him allowing him to slide to the ground. His tongue was a stump, cruelly cut half in his mouth and he began to make inarticulate grunting noises as if trying desperately to converse with her. "I'm sorry kid." She whispered.

She turned her back on him and began to stride away but he grasped her wrist, small fingers curling around the steel of her bracelet and she stopped. His eyes were large and dark and wet with frustrated tears, she knew what he wanted without him having to mimic with hands and she shook her head. "No way."

He got on his knees, hands still tugging at her wrist.

"I said no."

He released her and a sob wracked his small body, he looked so pathetic and vulnerable that Soldier couldn't help but feel endeared to him. _It's like feeding pigeons_, she thought.

She strode away from him and heard his footsteps, not even attempting to be cover he followed her and she led him into a slim alley that was surrounded on both sides by rubbish bins so to give them good cover. The boy stopped a few metres away, his neck thrust out as he watched her.

She eased herself between two of the bins and gathered her hood low over her eyes. She retrieved a small loaf of bread from her pack and the mute boy watched with intense interest, she tore off half and tossed it toward him and he caught it with a grunt and hesitated only for a moment before he gobbled it greedily.

The sky was split with lightning, a bright white celestial spark illuminating the red sky and then darkness. The rain began to fall a moment afterward. Soldier laid her head back against the brick wall and closed her eyes chewing meditatively on a mouthful of stale bread.

* * *

><p>Miss S<p> 


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

* * *

><p>He was known as General Keller, but he was born Andreas Galen Drache descendant of the First House of the Shapeshifters. He was a king in fact but the wars had changed everything. He had been raised by his mother, she was General Keller also; his mother had been hard with military discipline but fiercely loving too.<p>

It was losing her youngest child that made her harder; she had never forgiven his father for the loss of that child: his brother. Paxton.

His thoughts dark he barely noticed the door open but he noticed when the woman entered and sat up straighter in his seat.

Chenoa Nahuel moved with inhuman grace, her presence brought with it a breath of fresh mountain air, the faint fragrant scent of night blooming jasmine. She was small and dark, with large knowing eyes, they moved over him with love and concern. "What's wrong, honey?" She asked running fingertips over the furrow on his brow.

He closed his eyes beneath her touch. "We left someone behind." He said softly taking hold of her hand finger playing over the wedding band on her finger. "I never saw someone care so much as that little girl for that woman, they didn't even share blood."

"Who was she?"

"Just some...soldier." He said with a mocking half-smile. "She refused to come with us: she was prepared to die for what she believed. I used to have that fire." He tapped his breast. "I used to have that conviction."

"And now?" She asked easing into his lap.

His arms wrapped around her soft feminine body. "I don't know anymore." He sighed and breathed her scent in deep.

"I've seen how awful it is out there." He leant his head against his wife's chest listening to the ticking of her heart, comforted by the sound as if it could block out the desolation printed behind his eyelids, London had left its indelible mark on his psyche. "And despite the odds Eden thrived."

"Optimists are a resilient kind." She agreed.

"What should I do?"

She ran her fingertips through the short fuzz of his hair. "You'll go back for her." Her voice was full of portents.

"Go back?"

She nodded. "Go back, Andreas." He could not deny the words of an oracle; especially not an oracle who was also his wife.

* * *

><p>When Soldier Dominick woke she found she had been covered by a layer of tarpaulin easing the worst of the rain, she noted the mute boy kneeling nearby, his head moving this way, his inky black hair was plastered to his face and he moved it impatiently from his eyes so he could maintain a look out.<p>

She blinked, staring at him, he was odd. She didn't feel any threat or menace from him and only a dull sense of admiration that someone so young should survive in the city. _It's like feeding pigeons, _the thought ghosted in her mind.

The rain eased and eventually stopped and she realised she had been sitting watching the mute boy for a long time. When he realised she was awake he turned his large dark eyes toward her, his lips parted as if he wanted to speak and then she heard the cry of the Raven.

Panic made her spring up from the tarp blanket she grasped the boy by the arm of his jacket and pulled him with her deeper into the alley, trying to outrun the Ravens who were the spies of The Dragon, they were shape shifting creatures that had a lust for flesh.

She had seen Ravens feed on Revenants, the Ravens found them easy prey being slower to comprehend, clumsier.

The Raven had the sight of them; Soldier could feel its gaze pierce through her shoulder blades like a lance. Seeing an opportunity she swung the boy toward an indented doorway and she fell prostrate to the floor as the large bird swooped low over her head.

The Raven glided upward to land in the stairwell transforming into a man, who was rail thin, with protruding bones, his teeth sharp and eyes black. "Fresh meat." He hissed, saliva dripping from his lips, the small grey triangle of his tongue moved rapidly over his lower lip.

She turned and ran and didn't wait to watch him land on the floor behind her with a small thud and then could only hear the thud of his footsteps as he followed her.

"Don't run, fresh meat." He called out to her, his accent common. "It'd be easier for you if you don't run."

She made it to the mouth of the alley and heard something more terrifying than the cockney squall of the bird-man behind her, it was the sound of marching boots and she knew Black Masks were making their rounds. She swore to herself and turned to face the Raven who was whistling the British Grenadiers Drum and Fife.

"I like m'self some fresh meat." He said and clacked his teeth together. "I shan't tell the Black if you don't run."

_Like fuck_. She thought and ran toward him, she thrust her arm upward and it split its teeth against her wrist cuff.

The shapeshifter was large, all lanky limbs entangling with her own, tripping her to the ground and crushing her beneath his weight. "Shhh, girl." He murmured against her hair. "It'll be over before you know it."

For just an instant she allowed the despair to seep in, the loss and impossibility pressed upon her like the foul weight of this avian 'shifter and for that one irresistible moment she was ready to die.

Instead he squawked loudly and slumped on top of her.

She kicked him off with a groan and stared up at her unexpected rescuer but instead of gratitude she glowered up at the marble face with its silver bright eyes and patrician nose, he was unmistakably an immortal, you can always tell: it was the silver eyes.

"You should not be playing with vermin." He said as he kicked the Raven's body across the way as if it were nothing to him; Soldier didn't know whether he was speaking to her or the Raven.

He turned toward her, his stately posture and imperious glare had her reaching for her ironwood dagger sheathed at the small of her back.

"Dead meat." The Raven's voice wheezed through its slowly healing neck. "I hate dead meat."

The immortal turned toward the shapeshifter and Soldier inched backward, no longer seeking the dagger but seeking to escape.

"Hold on a minute, girl." The immortal said with a small laugh and was beside her in an instant and picked her up as easily as he had the skin and bones shapeshifter. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Let me go." She hissed between clenched teeth.

He laughed again, an infuriating sound owed to his superior strength and age. Pressed so close against him she found his chest as hard as stone, his body was honed as if carved from rock, he was truly the apex predator and she was no better than prey.

"Now why would I do that?" His voice was carnally bass, his breath puffed hotly against the shell of her ear making her shudder with revulsion.

He began to unwind the scarf, deliberately slow as if he were unveiling a virgin bride and she made no attempt to resist, she would have to pick her moment because there was no way she could overpower him.

She watched his eyes grow wider, she could see her face reflected in his silver eyes and the pleasure that curved his lips showing the tips of his sharp white teeth. "I had started to think all the females were dead or imprisoned in the brothels." He confided. "Do you know how expensive it is to get a young, sweet piece like you?" She shivered as he trailed pale fingertips down her jaw.

She knew vampires had been forbidden from using the Cheapside brothels; The Dragon was no friend to the vampire nation, having seen them as rivals to his rule.

The vampire's eyes seemed to fill her entire vision, she could feel his mental tendrils trying to pierce the defences of her mind and he reared back when he hit steel walls.

"I could sell you to Cyridven's court." He considered aloud and she shuddered at the thought of being given over to Cyridven and the dark pleasures of the astral plane. Cyridven demanded fealty from all spellcasters and hated Nicneven and those under her charge with a passion, she could only wonder with dread what Cyridven would think of a rogue Practitioner who paid fealty to neither court.

He locked her wrists together with manacles that he materialised from inside his jacket and placed her on the ground so he could rummage through her pack. Her eyes never left him as she tested the manacles that held her wrists firmly together, metal sliding against metal. _Shit._

"Well this is an interesting inventory." He said having laid her belongings in a row in front of him, carefully packed roots and herb, an array of stones, ammunition, knives and the last of her food. "The question is who are you?"

She looked up giving him dead eyes.

He regarded her for some time before he made his decision. "I will take you to the House of Ashe."

* * *

><p>The British refugees had integrated quickly amidst the families of New Eden. He found Alan Edwards sitting with Hank Raeburn, both watching an aged woman reading a book of fables to a group of British and American children. "…I love kids, sir." Raeburn was saying, his drawl thick and friendly.<p>

"Ever thought of having some of your own?"

"Well, I-" He began and then straightened as he saw Keller approach. "Major General." He saluted.

Alan turned around to face him but didn't move to salute him; instead he stared with his intense grey eyes. Alan was human through and through but Keller thought as he stared into the indomitable gaze of the British Sargent that he had the intensity of one of the People.

"I've been looking for you."

"Well you've found me." Alan said not altogether friendly.

"We need to talk Sergeant." He said with an arching brow.

"Of course." Alan said and they walked leaving Raeburn behind to stare at their backs.

"Soldier meant something to you." Keller said and noted the way Alan's shoulders tensed at the sound of her name.

"She's my oldest friend." He replied.

Keller nodded and after a moment of silence. "I want to go back for her."

Alan paused in step, his mouth slack for a moment. "You what?"

"Let me rephrase that, Sargent, I need to go back for her."

Alan laughed under his breath muttering. "I thought you didn't care for her."

"It's not a question of whether I care for her." He said with a small frown as if he too were struggling to understand his own reasoning. "It's a matter of doing what's right; she should never have been left behind."

"Soldier will never leave London." Alan said soberly. "Her blood is in the concrete of that place, she would rather face The Dragon alone than retreat to this paradise."

"That's suicide."

Alan nodded sagely. "What have you got in mind?"

The Major General lifted up his intense eyes. "We take a small team on the next relief flight and..."

* * *

><p>Miss S<p> 


	13. Chapter Twleve

Chapter Twelve

* * *

><p>Soldier woke to darkness, disoriented, not sure if she was truly awake on caught up in a dark intangible nightmare. Her ears were filled with the echo of sergeant's barking orders and military boots stampeding and it took a moment for her mind to clear.<p>

She found she could move her hands and touched her body gingerly; the scarf, hoodie and protective vest had been removed but the M7 suit was intact. She tested each limb to see if she had sustained damage, she hadn't, so she sat up ignoring the protest in her bruised and weary bones whilst her eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness.

Of course the gun was gone, the knife was gone, her pack was gone she was left with no physical way to protect herself. Her cuffs were still attached, and why wouldn't they be: they were magically attached to her flesh. She could still draw the pulse of earth through the stones beneath her, so there was at least one weapon at her disposal.

"I haven't seen you before." A voice eased out of the darkness.

The voice was soft, young, surprising and she was startled when the next moment a pale face was leaning over her. Light from no visible source was shining on the oval face and it was a very beautiful face, male but on the cusp of being feminine and pretty. White blonde hair fell across his forehead and into the black black penetrating eyes.

She stared at him for some time as if entranced by those lightless eyes until she glimpsed the three figures in the outer darkness.

"Are you Ashe?" She asked, her voice echoed in the dark, rasping slightly from lack of use.

He smiled, the luscious pink bow of his lips curving. "We are all Ashe." He said and drew back to motion toward his companions who began to silhouette against the orangey glow of the pillar candles they were lighting with fragrant matches.

Soldier cast an eye around and instantly recognised the layout of the place: it had at one time been a theatre and she was prone across its stage, the balcony had long ago collapsed leaving only sagging brick and a forlorn pile of burgundy velvet folding chairs. She noted the vampire who had captured her in Bloosmbury Square seated in the stalls, watching her as if she were part of a show.

The black eyed young man stood and began to pace around her much in the same way a predator might circle its prey. "We are the remnants of the House of Ashe of the Great Vampire Court of the Old World." Yes she had heard of this House, it had once been the largest vampire nests in Europe; known to be beautiful, cruel and incredibly wealthy and, she had been lead to believe, altogether dead.

Her eyes flicked to the other vampires, the tall patrician man still seated, a coffee skinned woman blowing out the match she had used to light the cathedral candles, and a pale and skinny slip of a boy by her side who peered at her with silver-bright eyes, their fangs resting upon their bottom lips in anticipation.

"I am Rivalen." The black eyed young man said and he bowed without irony.

"Maegester Rivalen." She said with a mock courtesy and offered a clumsy bow from the waist. His expression instantly sobered taking on a sharp, rapacious look reminding her that though he appeared young and pretty, he was a deadly son of a bitch.

"Who are you?" He asked softly and there was danger in the quality of his voice.

"Nobody." She replied.

He studied her face with great interest and she had to exercise every ounce of discipline not to show an iota of emotion. She watched his nostrils flare as he sniffed her scent. "You've seen Madame Nicneven." He said with a slight curl of the lip. "You reek of her ice and decay, Nobody."

She was startled that he would know Nicneven but she smoothed over her surprised with a smile. "I would have washed my hair and put on my best dress but your man took me by surprise."

"Running from a Raven." His seated companion added.

Rivalen appeared deeply amused. "You have spirit." He said with a nod. "That is good, Nobody. You will need it when we eat you."

She stared at the Nest from beneath her lashes, only four, with four pairs of keen hungry eyes, there was no doubt of their intentions for her: good blood was scarce these days and The Dragon had revoked the vampire's right to the flesh brothels of Cheapside.

He reached out and grasped his wrist, pale and slender fingers wrapped hard around her steel cuff and squeezed hard enough though with the magic the metal would not yield to his strength. "What is this?"

"Fashion accessory." She replied through clenched teeth.

"Are you wearing any more…accessories?" He asked, eyes moving hotly around her body; the M7 suit fit close too close for there to be anything between the suit and her skin.

"No." She said. "And these are steel, not silver, so you won't get a good price for them on the black market."

"Steel is good for restraining slaves." He said eyes flaring with otherworldly light whilst she glared at him.

She swiped her cuff against his face, it wouldn't really hurt him but it would shock and distract him for long enough for her to manoeuvre and, as she suspected, he hadn't been expecting her move.

She spun quickly to get him into a chokehold, with her forearm pressed against his throat, the magic rose and the steel grew hot, searing into his flesh with an audible sizzle.

"You fool. You can't slay all of us." He hissed from between his teeth.

"You're right." She said softly against his ear. "I can't kill all of you but I can hurt you very badly and I'm sure that wouldn't best please the rest of them." Of the two it was a debate as to who was more dangerous in that instant, the undead predator whose sharp teeth were unsheathed or the concupiscent witch whose magic was wrapped around his throat like a garrotte wire.

As she had thought the three vampires had gathered to them in a half circle. "Release him." The woman hissed, her dark eyes reflecting bright pinpricks of light and her teeth prominent on her lip.

She was holding the wrist of the vampire who had found her as if restraining him from leaping forward. "We will do anything." She pressed in a breathy voice that was half-hypnotic. "Anything."

"That's what I thought but why should I trust you?" Soldier asked pressing the cuff harder against Rivalen's throat for emphasis and smoke wafted before her eyes and the unpleasant smell of burnt flesh.

"Perhaps we can help one another." Rivalen suggested calmly, despite the pan.

"How can you help me?" She asked.

"We could let you live." One growled.

"Enough." Rivalen hissed and choked audibly and she eased her hold on him enough for him to say, "The enemy of my enemy…"

"I didn't think parasites could make friends." Soldier muttered.

"Well we can make an exception." He choked.

"If you want to bargain with me they have to go." She said.

"Maegester, no." The woman gasped whilst the men flanked her and growled inarticulately. Rivalen's eyes flicked to them and Soldier could hear the flutter of psychic speech like small bursts of static of whines in her ear, the chip could pick up lines of communication, usually electronic but sometimes, rarely, psychic. "Leave us." They seemed loath to do so but acquiesced with sullen expressions and silently exited the theatre.

"Now you must release me." Rivalen said in a reasonable tone. "We can't well bargain without at least being face to face."

She released him but remained in a defensive stance, ready to move, the acrid scent of sizzled flesh wafted up her nose and Rivalen grasped his wounded throat and she watched as the skin slowly began to heal. "You should try to refrain from using the word _parasite_, it does tend to upset us so."

"Isn't it true?"

"Perhaps, in a technical sense; we once ruled this world before the dragons returned, everyone seems to have forgotten that."

"I've only ever known dragons to enslave this world." She murmured; she couldn't fathom what would be worse, to continue in the sulphuric reign of The Dragon or beneath the bitter-sweet ministrations of the blood drinkers.

"The Dragon has reduced my House to all but the four of us." He said conversationally now. "Our father, the Maegester Ashe himself, was sundered by the beast as was our Court and all of our great leaders many years ago."

"Am I supposed to sympathise?"

"I would not expect that of you." He said with a fanged smile but his eyes remain silver-bright and terrifying and she regretted letting him out of her grasp. "You of all people should know what The Dragon does to those who oppose him, I watched many a sister burn for the sake of their blood." He meant the witches, and the great culling of them and any with their blood, both men and women were thrown into great funeral pyres or drowned in the depths of rivers and oceans because it had been said that witches ended the age of dragons.

She had heard how horrible it was, she knew some witches who chose to join the colony abiding with humans to escape the destruction and then one day it had all come to a stop. Some credited Nicneven, other credited Cyridven as if they had struck a bargain with The Dragon, but no one knew for sure why it had stopped and after meeting Nicneven, Solder had her doubts if she were capable of negotiating sensibly with anyone.

"You." Rivalen snapped his fingers to gain her attention. "Do we not seek the same thing: the death of The Dragon?" She didn't trust him for an instant and her expression told him so.

"If your leaders were so powerful-"

"We cannot withstand flame, can you?" He interjected angrily.

She dropped her eyes smiling faintly though there was no humour in it. "No."

"You have been in the company of the Madame of spell casters but you are no whore." She shook her head, no. "And none of Cyridven's lot would willingly leave her side nor would she let them do it without purpose."

"No." She acknowledged.

"So how does a witch survive in this place without them?"

She gritted her teeth and glared at him.

Her materialised a small knife from somewhere in his clothes and she swore softly under her breath. "Let me taste you, just a drop, and I will know all I need to know; we need share no words." His eyes were bright his expression deeply amused. "Or are you afraid?"

_Yes_. But she squared her jaw and using the proffered knife she sliced into her finger and smeared his bottom lip with her blood; his pink tongue slid decadently against the blood tasting her, allowing the knowledge to infuse his consciousness. "Soldier." He sighed. "You are exquisite. Idealists are a dying breed."

"I'm sure I'm the last of my kind." She muttered.

"Your people have abandoned you." He said.

"No." She said. "They chose to save themselves I chose differently."

His eyes were silver orbs and his smile took on a dreamy tinge. "You truly are the last of your kind."

A thought sprung to her and it was of Maya, once a witch and then the mother of Lamia, the first vampire formed of magic and murder. "Perhaps we are not so different in origin." She whispered.

He approached her quickly before she had time to think and his lips were suddenly upon hers but she refused to make the last move that would turn the touch into a kiss. His lips were cold, like the ice of the tomb and she struggled not to shudder beneath his touch. "Go freely, Soldier Dominick." He said against her mouth. "We will meet again."

She reeled away from him peering through narrowed lashes. "That's it?"

"We have a bargain now." He said and his lips curved into a smile. "Signed in blood."

"But we have no plan."

"We will."

"We haven't even-"

"My nest is hungry for your blood, I am giving you the opportunity to escape death tonight but we will prepare for it another time, I will find you when the time is ripe."

She believed he would find her and drink her to the last drop. Her mother had never trusted vampires; she had always restrained her from straying too close, their eldritch gaze spoke of age and slaughter. There was always that alien hunger in their eyes and it was hard to distinguish one desire from another.

She picked up her pack, sagging and half-empty from the ransacking, she quickly donned her scarf and turned and ran; she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, it was worth running now if only to survive another day.

"Why, Rivalen?" She heard the woman vampire intone ominously from the darkness. "We could have feasted on her for weeks."

* * *

><p>Miss S<p> 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

><p>Dusk had already descended on the streets when Soldier burst out of the doors of the Novello Theatre; the sign was emblazoned on the top of the building, one of the few buildings untouched by dragon fire.<p>

_Go. _The small voice hissed in her mind. _Go now._

Soldier wrapped her arms around herself, having only the M7 suit and scarf to stave off the evening's poisonous chill and then she heard it, like the distant sound of thunder: boots marching in tandem. The Black Masks were coming.

She eyed up the ring of stars above and the position of the moon for any indication of the time. By the sound of it they were heading east which meant they were on the clockwise rotation toward the City of London where another battalion would be stationed to continue the east river rout to the Canary Wharf. Soldier considered taking the India Place underpass to Cheapside but then she didn't know if she wanted to run into Nicneven or her coven again not so soon and not so depleted.

She stood there for longer than she ought to and the march was almost upon her, she barely had time to manoeuvre into a hiding place before they appeared, slowly tapping her wrist cuff to activate a concealment charm. The meeting with the vampires had her disoriented and she had almost strode right into danger and sat quietly now swearing silently at herself.

The Black Masks walked shoulder to shoulder, four across and there were too many men to count for the length of the train, from a height the soldiers moved like a thick bodied black centipede, curving down the streets. Their purpose was to be a presence, to intimidate.

There was only one law in this world and it was The Dragon's.

A soldier sidestepped from his line and lifted his rifle, despite the featureless mask she could hear the deep sniffs he was taking of the air. Was he detecting her scent or the vampires within the theatre? Or was he detecting the sweet hint of her charm? She forced herself to remain relaxed, though her heartbeat defied her will and began to clap louder and louder. Soldier trusted in the charm, it had saved her skin more than once.

"Hold it right there."

Soldier went rigid.

"You're not authorised to be in this district, maggot."

She was tempted to turn toward the Black Mask but she didn't have to when she saw the small child-like figure stumbled from darkness into the triangle of light.

The Fae was small and hobbled, grey skinned and black lightless eyes; its lipless mouth opened but no sound escaped. It didn't matter anyway because the Black Mask pulled the trigger and the Fae's head exploded like so much raw fruit. "Clear." His muffled voice intoned without any hint of feeling and he pulled up his gun.

They were cold these Black Masks, completely without mercy. She thought of the soldier in the brothel, his luminous eyes filled with a human-like wonder and she gritted her teeth in fury. He had done this too, no doubt. Pulling the trigger without compunction.

There was a burst of static and bleeps, a distorted voice erupted through the radio mounted on the Black Masks' shoulder. _"Why did you break formation, Lakra?"_ "I thought I sensed…" _"Get back in line, we'll send the Covent Garden cohort to secure the area." _"Yes, sir." Though this Lakra didn't sound convinced and it took another minute before he lifted his rifle and joined the end of the procession.

Soldier followed belatedly in the soldiers' wake, slightly dazed and relieved but the relief was short lived as she broke away to cross Blackfriars Bridge to cross the river and get to a safe haven. Just as she approached the bridge she saw a familiar figure: Nicneven's man was striding down the road with some heavies in tow. She saw him stop to talk to a group of teens crouching in the awning of an old bookstore. "I'm looking for a girl, a witch, a Harman..."

Soldier pressed herself hard against the stone side of a building.

"If you see her you call me." He said.

"What's in it for us?" One grunted.

"You'll be rewarded handsomely." He replied.

"Those are Black Mask brothels." His companion hissed.

"Can you guarantee my life, little man?"

"I can guarantee your pleasure, messier if you can supply me with the girl."

Soldier swore softly under her breath.

She took an experimental step backward and felt her calf collide with something hard and an old barrel and box clattered to the floor.

"Oi, you." One of the kids grunted.

Soldier ducked her head and ran.

It wasn't hard to outrun them as she used her cuff and the pheromone simulator to emit a Revenant signature, the living had little use for Revenants and on instinct would recoil from the scent.

She made her way through the darkness and shadows and climbed into the ruins of St George the Martyr Church, two sides had been made rubble but there was an inner wall intact and the roof had been repaired to offer shelter. Though the outside looked small it was still large within.

There was nothing to stop the People wandering into a Church though superstitiously they tended to avoid them which was why many of the small safe spaces were in old churches.

She lit the lantern, using the store of matches in its base and a paltry orange glow illuminated the inside.

She plucked a stray piece of pipe from the debris on the way in, with her hand firmly clutching the metal she was ready to bash in the head of any lurking Revenants or Fae. It was a wise move because she could hear the scuttling of something in the dark, Revenant or rat it was hard to tell sometimes.

"Show yourself." She demanded.

More rustling and a small figure lurched out of a pile of broken pews and half burnt hymn books and Soldier raised the pipe high to get a first quick blow.

The mute boy appeared his face upturned to the lantern light; his dirt smudged face was awash with relief. She was only half surprised to see him. "You're alive." She said and he grinned up at her.

She dropped the pipe and the boy ran colliding with her and it reminded her so much of Persephone that she found her arm coming around his skinny shoulders offering a half-hearted hug.

She unwound her scarf and watched as the boy tried to communicate with hands and awkward grunts and squeaks his regret of them separating and his relief of finding her again. She wondered silently if he was part of a resistance cell that came in and out of the city for supplies, maybe he had been separated from his family group, or maybe he had escaped one of the harems or slave markets. She would never know and didn't stop to ask, there would be time later. Perhaps.

Soldier ambled toward the lectern where a withered bunch of daisies lay across the front, a small sign that the resistance and had been here, probably a small band of independent humans not affiliated with any of the colonies.

She retrieved the food parcel from beneath the surface and held it up with a smile. The boy ran toward her as she unwound the oil soaked cloth and cellophane wrap to uncover nut bread and cheese which she tore in half to share with him. He gobbled down the stale food with the eagerness of a starving child whilst she chewed meditatively on her small bite of bread. "I'm going to get some sleep." She murmured and his eyes slid toward her showing that he comprehended her words though he continued to rip at the bread with his teeth. "As soon as I wake we'll have to look for somewhere else to lay low."

* * *

><p>"<em>Once upon a time there was a Prince-"<em>

"_What was his name?"_

"_Galen, and he was the most handsome of princes."_

"_And there was a Princess."_

"_Yes, a Princess who was as beautiful as our Prince was handsome."_

"_And they met fighting a dragon."_

"_Yes, my love, that's how they met."_

"_And the Princess was a warrior."_

_Are you telling this story or am I?_

The sound of the match surrounded Soldier and she was dragged from the eerie voices of her past to the present, she did not panic at first, she knew the sound like the distant squall were the Black Masks doing their usual rounds but as her senses returned she felt a flicker of fear.

She sat up and found the boy napping at her feet, curled up like a cat with his dark lashes resting upon his caramel cheeks.

"We can't stay here." She murmured as she nudged him with her boot. He opened his eyes a crack and yawned showing a hint of his mutilated tongue and the sight made her wince. Soldier ran a hand over her face and winced again as her fingertips brushed her sweat-soaked bandana and she felt pain.

The boy sat up wide eyed and awake as the knowledge of the Black Masks march penetrated his sleepy haze. Soldier stood quickly retrieving the pipe she had discarded earlier and throwing it to the boy, he barely caught it with both hands but his knuckles turned white as he gripped it hard and he followed her closely as she guided him out of the church.

Soldier was not the religious sort, she had been kept far from the knowledge of gods and goddesses, the only faith she had was in the steel and wires of her equipment and the only religion she served was the eternal struggle between good and evil.

She waited until she was sure the soldiers had crossed the bridge and their footsteps became a distant rumble. "We have to find another shelter for the night." She murmured. "If we keep moving we're less likely to be picked up by them or something else."

He grasped her sleeve and started to tug her to one side and it was not the direction she had been considering. She looked down at him and the earnest expression that lit his dark eyes. "No." She protested trying to retrieve her arm from his grasp. "It's too near the bridge." He shook his head from side to side and pointed in the direction of the hospital.

The hospital had been an ugly building when it stood opposite the grandiose of the Palace of Westminster.

"It's too near the enemy and I have to wait for a…" She said but he started to pull her until her boots began to drag on the ground. "Okay, okay." She said and he released her she followed him grudgingly.

He led her expertly through the dark and they were, as she suspected, staring into a gaping dark hole in the wall of the supermarket that backed onto what was once St Thomas' Hospital.

"In there?" She asked.

He put a hand on her shoulder preventing her from going first and he stepped ahead of her and she followed him as she had so far that night slowly and silently. It was all darkness in the entrance and only the sound of the boy's progress was guiding her forward and soon she was surrounded all about by the glittering eyes of wolves.

* * *

><p>Werewolves.<p>

_Once upon a time there was a prince who chose to be a leopard._

_Why a leopard?"_

_Because he fell in love with a panther._

_Oh. I'm sorry._

* * *

><p>Ms S<p> 


End file.
